Indus    Books 

BOX    812, 
DAVIS,    CALIF. 


UCSB  LIBRARY 


AN  .... 
UNFINISHED 
SONG 


MRS.    GHOSAL. 
(Srimati   Svarna   Kumari   Devi.) 


AN  UNFINISHED  SONG 

By 

Mrs.  GHOSAL 

(Srimati  Svartxa 
Kumari  Devi) 

Author  ol 

"The  Fatal  Garland," 

etc. 

New  York 

THE   MACMILLAN   COMPANY 

NEW  YORK  HERALD. — Mrs.  Ghosal  has  con- 
trived in  an  absorbing  narrative  to  convey  to 
the  Western  reader  a  valuable  insight  into 
the  Hindu  nature. 

WESTMINSTER  GAZETTE. — Mrs.  Ghosal,  as 
one  of  the  pioneers  of  the  woman  movement 
in  Bengal,  and  fortunate  in  her  own  up- 
bringing, is  well  qualified  to  give  this  picture 
of  a  Hindu  maiden's  development. 

CLARION. — Remarkable  for  the  pictures  of 
Hindu  life,  the  story  is  overshadowed  by  the 
personality  of  the  authoress,  one  of  the  fore- 
most Bengali  writers  of  to-day. 


1st  Edition,  December,  1913 
2nd  Edition,  October,  1914 


PREFACE 

THIS  is  a  story  of  life  among  the  Reformed 
Party  of  Bengal,  the  members  of  which  have 
to  some  extent  adopted  western  customs. 
It  shows  the  change  that  touch  with  Europe 
has  brought  upon  the  people  of  India,  but 
in  their  inner  nature  the  Hindus  are  still 
quite  different  from  western  races.  The 
ideals  and  traits  of  character  that  it  has 
taken  thousands  of  years  to  form  are  not 
affected  by  a  mere  external  change.  This 
story,  it  is  true,  touches  on  one  side  of 
Indian  life  only,  for  in  a  small  book  it  is 
difficult  to  depict  many  of  the  numerous 
phases  of  our  Society ;  still  I  trust  it  will 
give  the  western  reader  some  insight  into 
the  Hindu  nature. 


INTRODUCTION 

THE  author  of  this  book,  a  high  caste  Indian  lady, 
is  one  of  the  pioneers  of  the  Woman  movement  in 
Bengal,  indeed  the  wealthy  Tagore  family  to  which 
she  belongs  nas  done  more  to  raise  the  standard  of 
the  Bengali  than  any  other  Indian  family.  Although 
brought  up  strictly  on  Zenana  lines,  educated  behind 
the  purdah,  and  married  at  a  very  youthful  age, 
Mrs.  Ghosal  was  encouraged  both  by  her  father  and 
her  husband  to  develop  her  unusual  powers  of  mind 
and  character.  Her  father,  Devendra  Nath  Tagore, 
was  the  great  religious  reformer  and  founder  of  the 
Brahmo  Somaj,  a  society  which  devotes  itself  to 
fostering  and  preserving  all  that  is  high  and  noble 
in  the  Vedic  religion.  From  her  father  Mrs.  Ghosal 
inherits  her  passionate  love  and  admiration  for 
her  native  land,  her  ardent  desire  to  rouse  it  from 
its  lethargy,  to  inspire  it  to  progress,  and  to  help  it 
cast  off  the  yoke  of  its  debasing  traditions. 

One  of  her  brothers,  Rabindra  Nath  Tagore,  is  the 
foremost  Indian  poet  of  to-day,  adored  by  his  country- 
men, and  eulogised  both  in  England  and  America, 
where  his  poems  have  been  issued  in  translated  form. 
Another  brother,  Dwijendra  Nath,  founded  what  is 
now  one  of  the  chief  Bengali  magazines,  which  he 
dedicated  to  Bharoti,  the  goddess  of  Learning ; 
while  her  third  brother,  Satyendra  Nath,  after  visiting 


4  INTRODUCTION 

England,  set  himself  to  tear  down  the  purdah,  to 
remove  from  Indian  women  the  many  and  tremendous 
disabilities  under  which  they  labour ;  he  has  been 
warmly  supported  by  Mrs.  Ghosal,  who  was  one  of 
the  first  Bengali  ladies  to  mix  freely  in  Society. 

At  a  very  early  age  Mrs.  Ghosal,  or,  to  call  her  by 
her  beautiful  Indian  name,  Srimati  Svarna  Kumari, 
which  signifies  the  Maiden  of  Gold,  showed  unusual 
ability  and  force  of  character  ;  before  she  was  twenty 
she  had  published  an  anonymous  novel  which 
became  an  immediate  success,  and  the  revelation  of 
its  authorship  caused  a  great  sensation,  as  it  was  the 
first  time  an  Indian  woman  had  attempted  such  a 
feat.  Soon  after  she  took  over  from  her  brother  the 
editorship  of  the  magazine  "  Bharoti,"  thus  becoming 
the  first  woman  editor  in  India,  and,  except  for  a  short 
interval  when  her  two  daughters  took  it  in  hand,  she 
has  conducted  it  ever  since — a  period  of  twenty-five 
years.  Besides  her  editorial  work  she  has  produced 
novels  and  short  stories,  poems,  dramas,  farces,  and 
popular  scientific  text  books  for  use  in  schools. 
Several  of  her  novels  have  been  dramatised  and 
her  plays  have  been  performed  before  enthusiastic 
audiences  all  over  India. 

Besides  her  literary  and  editorial  work  she  interests 
herself  hi  every  movement  that  is  set  on  foot  to 
educate  and  raise  her  countrywomen,  and  has  herself 
founded  a  Home  for  Indian  widows,  for  the  purpose 
of  providing  a  refuge  for  those  unfortunates  whose 
relatives,  now  that  old  customs  are  losing  ground,  no 
longer  feel  bound  to  maintain  them  ;  this  Home  is 
directed  by  one  of  Mrs.  Ghosal's  daughters,  while 
her  other  daughter  founded  and  directs  the  "  All 


INTRODUCTION  5 

India  Women's  Society  "  for  the  education  of  Indian 
women.  Mrs.  Ghosal's  son  holds  an  important  posi- 
tion in  the  I.C.S.,  and  is  now  on  a  visit  to  England 
with  his  wife,  the  Princess  Sukriri  of  Cooch  Behar. 

Now  that  her  children  are  married  Mrs.  Ghosal 
lives  alone  in  the  great  Ghosal  house,  which  stands 
in  its  large  and  beautiful  grounds,  shaded  by  palm 
trees  and  cooled  by  fountains,  on  the  outskirts  of 
Calcutta.  Only  a  few  months  ago  she  lost  her  beloved 
husband,  her  lifelong  companion,  who  shared  her 
convictions  and  encouraged  her  in  her  work.  Since 
then,  although  she  does  not  adhere  to  the  strict  rules  of 
the  Hindoo  widow,  she  has  withdrawn  from  Society. 
She  feels  that,  for  her,  the  joy  of  life  is  over.  "  We  shall 
be  reunited  in  our  future  births,"  she  says,  and  this  she 
awaits  with  calm  conviction.  She  has  laid  aside  her 
wonderfully  embroidered  saris  with  their  gold  bor- 
ders ;  her  magnificent  necklaces  and  bracelets  and 
the  splendid  jewels  that  used  to  fasten  her  saris  on 
shoulder  and  breast  and  in  her  dark  hair  she  has 
divided  among  her  daughters  and  grandchildren,  and 
she  now  appears  clad  in  flowing  garments  of  soft  white 
silk.  She  is  tall  and  stately,  a  veritable  "  grande 
dame,"  her  face  is  noble  and  expressive  of  high  intel- 
ligence, and  her  manner  calm  and  perfectly  dignified. 

One  day  for  her  is  very  like  another  ;  she  rises  at  a 
very  early  hour,  and  upon  the  great  terrace  in  front 
of  the  house  she  recites  her  morning  prayer  as  the 
sun  rises,  endeavouring  to  "  merge  her  small  entity  in 
the  great  ocean  of  entities "  ;  she  prays  to  the 
Almighty,  All  Beneficent  Power,  that  good  may  befall 
every  creature,  that  wisdom  and  happiness  may  be 
the  lot  of  every  soul  on  its  journey  up  from  ignorance 


6  INTRODUCTION 

to  light.  Then  she  goes  to  the  south  verandah  where, 
after  drinking  a  glass  of  milk,  she  spends  the  early 
morning  hours  in  literary  work,  revising,  editing, 
correcting  and  writing.  At  eleven  o'clock  she  has 
her  daily  bath,  an  important  ceremonial  in  the  life 
of  an  Indian  lady,  even  her  heavy  luxuriant  hair  is 
washed  every  day.  After  a  very  simple  meal  she 
rests  and  reads  the  daily  papers  or  a  book.  At  four 
she  has  another  cup  o!  milk,  and  until  seven  she  strolls 
in  her  beautiful  garden,  or  receives  visitors  (or  before 
her  husband's  death  she  would  drive  out  in  her  car 
and  pay  visits),  and  soon  after  dinner  she  retires  to 
rest.  Although  Mrs.  Ghosal  still  wears  the  native 
dress  and  retains  all  the  beauty  and  comfort  that 
India  has  to  offer  her,  she  does  not  hesitate  to  intro- 
duce European  conveniences  into  her  house,  and  her 
wide  drawing-room  contains  English  chairs  and  tables. 
There  she  receives  her  friends  with  generous  hospi- 
tality ;  when  they  first  arrive  tea  is  handed  to  them 
in  pretty  Japanese  cups,  then  a  number  of  trays  are 
brought  in  covered  with  small  dishes  containing 
innumerable  delicacies  :  quaint  little  cakes,  delicious 
sandwiches,  fried  rice,  biscuits  spread  with  hot  cheese, 
salads,  fruit  creams  and  sherbets  ;  the  hostess  herself 
piles  her  visitors'  plates  till  they  pray  her  to  desist, 
and  finally  finger  bowls  are  handed  round. 

Mrs.  Ghosal  is  a  forerunner,  a  type  of  the  future 
woman  of  India,  now  that  education  is  becoming 
general.  She  has  not  wholly  emerged  from  the  seclu- 
sion of  the  purdah,  there  are  still  many  relatives  even 
in  Calcutta  whose  feelings  would  be  grievously  hurt 
by  total  emancipation,  with  them  she  still  keeps 
purdah,  the  change  even  in  her  enlightened  family  is 


INTRODUCTION  7 

going  on  slowly.  Emancipation  is  not  all  gain,  Mrs. 
Ghosal  thinks  ;  women  behind  the  purdah  lived  such 
peaceful  sheltered  lives,  nothing  came  near  enough 
to  hurt  them  except  the  sickness  or  death  of  their 
dear  ones  ;  anxieties  passed  them  by,  there  was  time 
for  everything,  no  hurry,  no  striving  to  be  "  economi- 
cally independent,"  and  Mrs.  Ghosal,  with  all  her 
progressive  ideas,  still  preserves  the  dignified  tran- 
quillity of  the  purdah  nashin  lady  ;  brilliant  as  she 
is  in  the  eyes  of  her  countrymen,  flattered  as  she  has 
been,  she  never  asserts  herself  nor  gives  an  opinion 
unasked ;  and  indeed  the  semi-purdah  in  which  she 
lives  has  the  great  advantage  that  it  affords  her 
abundant  opportunity  for  her  literary  work  and  study. 
Mrs.  Ghosal  has  read  and  thought  deeply  ;  although 
she  has  never  been  to  England  she  is  greatly  interested 
in  everything  English,  and  reads  many  English  books  ; 
her  favourite  author  is  George  Eliot,  for  whom  she 
has  a  deep  veneration. 

This  is  the  first  time  that  a  book  of  hers  has  been 
brought  before  the  English  public,  and  it  should  be  of 
deep  interest  to  all  those  who  are  concerned  with  the 
Woman  question,  for  it  presents  a  careful  study  of  the 
Indian  girl  at  this  intensely  interesting  stage  in  the 
history  of  her  development,  and  particularly  of  her 
attitude  towards  love  and  marriage  ;  all  that  is  best 
in  the  old  traditions  of  her  race  still  holds  her  fast, 
but  she  is  reaching  out  eager  hands  for  the  freedom 
that  will  some  day  be  hers. 

E.  M.  LANG. 


AN  UNFINISHED  SONG 


CHAPTER  I 

"  Man's  love  is  of  man's  life  a  thing  apart, 
"Pis  woman's  whole  existence." 

HE  who  wrote  the  above  lines  was  a  great 
man.  It  seems  wonderful  that  a  man  should 
have  read  the  inner  nature  of  woman  so 
clearly  as  to  become  aware  of  this  subtle 
fact.  In  my  own  life,  I  feel  that  every 
word  of  it  is  true.  When  I  retrace  the 
history  of  my  life,  as  far  back  as  memory 
carries  me,  I  see  that  I  have  always  loved ; 
love  and  life  have  been  so  blended  that  they 
became  one.  And  were  this  love  ever 
taken  from  me,  life  would  be  worthless,  a 
mere  blank,  my  individuality  lost. 

What  was  my  age  when  love  first  came  ? 
I  do  not  know  the  day  and  year  of  my  birth. 
We  had  no  horoscope  cast,  my  sister  and  I. 
Once  I  found  among  a  pile  of  waste  paper 
an  old  note-book  of  my  father's  in  which 
the  dates  of  these  important  events  were 

9 


io         AN   UNFINISHED   SONG 

recorded.  I  tore  out  the  page  containing 
the  record  and  pasted  it  in  the  corner 
of  my  song  book,  but  the  book  got  lost  in 
course  of  time  as  books  will.  A  search 
was  made  for  it,  and  all  the  books  I  had 
ever  possessed  were  brought  together.  The 
very  scribbling  block  on  which  I  had  first 
practised  the  art  of  writing  in  big  letters, 
from  right  to  left  and  from  left  to  right,  even 
this  appeared,  but  the  song  book,  the  book 
that  was  wanted  above  all  others,  was 
never  found.  Men  will  smile  when  I  tell 
them  of  this  lack  of  knowledge ;  they  will 
grow  sceptical  over  my  simplicity.  But 
women  know  what  a  difficult  thing  it  is  for 
the  female  memory  to  retain  mere  numbers. 
Both  days  and  years  escape  them  in  their 
flight.  We  have  no  trouble  in  guessing 
the  right  day  of  the  week,  because  weeks 
are  short  and  quick  to  recur.  But  when 
we  are  asked  the  exact  date  of  some  bygone 
event,  I  would  not  ask  any  one  to  place 
reliance  on  our  statements.  We  remember 
days  by  events,  and  only  those  days  interest 
us  on  which  events  took  place  in  which  we 
were  concerned.  Let  me,  for  instance, 
recall  my  sister's  marriage.  Before  my 
mind's  eye  appears  a  moonlight  night  in  the 


AN   UNFINISHED   SONG         11 

month  of  Falgoon.*  I  still  see  the  calm 
moon  in  the  clear  sky.  I  see  a  night  made 
bright  by  the  lights  and  the  merriment  of 
the  bridal  fete.  But  the  full  moon  and  the 
bridal  song  did  not  record  numbers.  Ask 
me  not  for  the  year,  because  years  are  to  us 
only  numbers,  formless  things  following 
each  other  silently,  and  like  a  sage  medi- 
tating on  the  Being  without  form  or  quality, 
so  has  the  woman  to  stop  and  think  and 
count  backward  and  forward  and  backward 
again  when  she  wants  to  trace  the  year  in 
which  a  certain  event  occurred.  But  there 
is  one  thing  the  great  God  in  His  mercy 
has  made  impossible  for  her.  She  cannot, 
however  hard  she  may  try,  count  backward 
to  the  day  of  her  birth.  That  event  is  hap- 
pily shrouded  in  oblivion. 

It  is  all  a  great  riddle,  a  mystery — this 
birth  of  man.  The  constellations  are  busily 
at  work  at  a  certain  moment  to  prepare  a 
future  for  him,  but  he  who  is  most  concerned 
is  oblivious  to  it  all.  So  after  all  it  is  no 
fault  of  mine  if  I  know  not  the  year  in  which 
my  life  commenced.  I  seem  to  remember 
1882  or  1883,  but  how  far  these  figures  are 

*  The  first  month  of  the  Indian  Spring,  which  begins 
from  the  middle  of  February. 


12         AN  UNFINISHED   SONG 

exact  I  cannot  tell.  And  after  all  is  there 
really  any  one  who  is  the  loser  by  this  uncer- 
tainty ?  The  loss  is  neither  mine  nor  the 
reader's.  If  the  want  of  knowledge  of  these 
three  hundred  and  sixty-five  days  would 
shorten  or  lengthen  a  man's  life  to  that 
extent,  it  would  be  a  different  matter. 
But  as  it  is,  man  may  forget  time,  but  time 
will  never  forget  man.  My  age  will  be 
the  same  xvhether  I  realise  it  or  not,  and 
it  does  not  matter  much  to  the  reader  if  I 
am  twenty  instead  of  nineteen.  Let  me 
assume  then  that  I  am  nineteen  in  order 
to  settle  the  question  finally.  I  am  still  a 
spinster.  This  may  be  a  source  of  surprise 
to  one  who  understands  this  land  of  ours ; 
but  it  is  gradually  changing,  for  are  there  not 
many  maids  unmarried  in  this  advanced 
age  who  count  as  many  years  as  I  do  ? 
And  if  a  surprise  it  be  I  have  a  still  greater 
in  store  for  my  readers.  I,  a  Hindu  maiden, 
knew  love  before  I  entered  wedlock.  I 
loved  a  man  without  even  expecting  him  to 
become  my  husband. 

I  do  not  remember  my  mother ;  I  lost  her 
in  my  infancy.  But  my  father's  devotion 
offered  compensation,  and  I  loved  him  with 
a  fondness  greater  than  which  no  child 


AN  UNFINISHED   SONG         13 

could  bestow  on  its  mother.  It  is  often 
argued  that  filial  and  conjugal  affection  are 
feelings  of  a  very  different  nature.  But 
my  impression  has  been  just  the  reverse. 
Here  again  I  may  differ  from  my  reader. 
What  the  lover  is  to  youth  the  parents  are 
to  childhood— the  object  of  worship  and 
affection,  the  idol  of  the  heart.  It  has  always 
seemed  to  me  that  a  parent  is  protector 
and  lover  blended  in  one.  Towards  both 
we  are  drawn  by  the  same  desire,  to  make 
the  beloved  a  part  of  ourselves,  to  have 
complete  possession.  The  disappointment 
is  the  same  in  each  case  when  love  is  not 
reciprocated,  and  we  feel  an  equal  readiness 
to  embrace  pain  and  adversity  in  order  to 
promote  the  happiness  of  the  beloved. 

I  had  a  sister  but  we  had  become  some- 
what estranged  from  each  other.  She  was 
four  or  five  years  older  than  I,  and  lived 
with  our  father's  sister  in  Calcutta  for  her 
education.  I  loved  my  sister  dearly,  and 
was  delighted  whenever  she  came  home  on 
a  visit,  but  if  she  took  up  too  much  of  my 
father's  attention,  if  she  claimed  his  affec- 
tion in  too  great  a  degree,  I  ceased  to  appre- 
ciate her.  After  dinner  my  father  was  in 
the  habit  of  lying  down  to  enjoy  his  "  gur- 


14        AN  UNFINISHED   SONG 

guri "  (large  hookah).  In  this  quiet  hour 
he  would  soon  find  his  little  girls  on  either 
side  of  him.  When  alone  with  him  I  used 
to  consider  it  my  special  privilege  to  twine 
my  arms  round  his  neck.  In  this  way  I 
chatted  with  him,  asking  every  evening 
anew  the  same  question,  "  Whom  do  you 
love  best  ?  "  to  which  he  invariably  replied 
that  he  loved  both  alike.  But  notwith- 
standing this  I  used  to  be  quite  certain  in 
my  mind  that  he  loved  me  most.  "  Do  you 
say  this  because  you  fear  my  sister  will  get 
angry  ?  >!  I  would  question.  This  only 
made  him  smile  and  remain  firm  in  his 
assertion. 

I  still  remember  the  many  ways  in  which 
I  used  to  show  my  solicitude  for  him.  If  it 
was  cold  in  winter,  his  warm  clothing  was 
insufficient  to  keep  him  warm,  it  required 
my  little  shawl  to  cover  him  and  protect  him 
from  the  cold.  The  punkah  coolie  could  not 
do  his  duty  in  the  summer,  father  would 
certainly  be  very  uncomfortable  unless  I 
plied  my  little  hand-fan  to  cool  him.  I 
remember  I  used  to  make  cuts  in  the 
potatoes,  and  decorate  them  after  my  own 
fashion,  so  that  they  might  please  him  when 
they  were  placed  before  him.  Although  I 


AN   UNFINISHED   SONG         15 

often  cut  my  fingers  during  this  performance 
I  could  not  be  induced  to  abstain  from  it. 
If  the  cook  listened  to  my  entreaties  to  let 
me  put  the  salt  into  the  curry,  I  thought  how 
very  palatable  it  now  must  be  for  father' 
If  ever  he  had  to  hurry  off  to  office  without 
taking  the  betel  I  had  prepared  for  him,  I 
would  go  without  food  that  day.  My  poor 
widowed  aunt,  who  superintended  our  house- 
hold used  to  be  put  to  great  difficulty 
because  she  could  get  no  flowers  for  her 
worship;  for  with  the  early  dawn  I  was  in 
the  garden  gathering  all  the  opened  buds  for 
father,  and  no  one  else  dared  to  claim  one. 

I  remember  that  I  was  ill  once  while  my 
sister  was  at  home  on  a  visit,  and  she  took 
upon  herself  the  duty  of  gathering  flowers 
and  presenting  them  to  my  father.  Oh, 
how  this  pained  me ;  I  suffered  more  from 
it  than  from  my  illness.  If  I  became  cross 
and  naughty,  nothing  would  make  me 
behave  better  so  quickly  as  the  threat,  "  You 
will  not  be  allowed  to  rest  with  your  father 
after  dinner  to-night." 

I  was  at  most  five  years  old  at  the  time 
of  which  I  am  writing.  My  young  life  was 
inundated  with  love,  and  from  it  I  have 
drawn  the  conclusion  that  love  is  ever  the 


16         AN   UNFINISHED  SONG 

same,  whether  it  be  between  parent  and 
child,  brother  and  sister  or  youth  and 
maiden.  It  is  born  in  affection  towards 
the  parent,  then  passing  in  its  development 
through  the  stages  of  love  for  brothers 
and  sisters,  and  the  fondness  of  friendship, 
it  finally  finds  its  full  expression  in  the 
passion  of  youth  and  maiden.  Just  as  I  am 
the  same  individual  now  that  I  was  in  my 
infancy  although  I  have  assumed  a  different 
appearance  through  the  growth  and  expan- 
sion of  body  and  mind,  so  love  is  the  same, 
though  it  grows,  expands  and  blossoms  out 
from  infantile  affection  into  the  passion  of 
youth.  It  can  then  no  longer  be  sustained 
by  the  limited  ideas  of  childhood,  it  seeks 
another  object  to  which  to  attach  itself,  and 
as  it  passes  through  the  different  stages  the 
heart  learns  in  the  end  to  yearn  after  the 
supreme  ideal.  That  woman  is  blessed 
who,  having  found  her  idol,  surrenders 
herself  in  worship  to  him  entirely.  That 
man  is  blessed  who,  once  installed  in  the 
shrine  of  a  consecrated  heart,  dedicates 
himself  to  her  and  thus  justifies  the  end  of 
life.  That  love  alone  is  true  which,  based 
on  self-abnegation,  endures  in  its  fullness 
throughout  all  time. 


AN  UNFINISHED   SONG         17 

Thus  I  love  father  much  even  now.  I 
would  gladly  sacrifice  myself  to  procure  his 
happiness,  but  he  is  no  longer  the  only 
object  of  my  affection,  aspiration,  desire, 
worship  and  contemplation,  my  only  source 
of  happiness.  My  all-pervading,  all-embrac- 
ing love  did  not  twine  around  him  alone 
very  long.  While  I  was  still  a  child  a  rival 
appeared  to  share  it. 


CHAPTER  II 


CHAPTER  II 

I  HAVE  not  so  far  disclosed  the  name  of  the 
place  where  our  family  lives ;  it  is  in  the 
district  of  Dacca.  My  father  has  a  small 
estate,  but  his  income  is  mainly  derived 
from  service  under  Government.  As  long 
as  he  could  attend  to  this  at  home  we  were 
very  comfortable,  but  when  I  was  about 
8  or  9  years  old  he  was  transferred  to  another 
place.  I  mentioned  before  that  my  sister 
lived  with  an  aunt  in  Calcutta,  but  I  had  not 
so  far  ever  lived  apart  from  my  father,  nor 
could  I  have  borne  the  separation.  Father 
accordingly  took  me  with  him  to  his  new 
district.  Here  the  only  sort  of  school 
was  at  the  house  of  the  Zemindar  of  the  vil- 
lage for  the  education  of  the  children  of  his 
family,  but  many  of  the  children  of  the 
neighbourhood  attended  it  as  well,  myself 
among  them.  This  is  a  custom  generally 
adopted  in  India  in  country  districts.  In  this 
school  I  made  many  warm  friendships,  but 
the  warmest  of  all  was  with  Cbotu  (little  one). 

21 


22        AN   UNFINISHED   SONG 

I  did  not  learn  his  correct  name.  Possibly 
he  was  called  Chotu  because  he  was  the 
youngest  of  the  family,  but  it  never  occurred 
to  me  that  he  had  another  name.  He  was 
the  nephew  of  Babu  Krishna  Mohan,  in 
whose  house  the  school  was.  The  boy  had 
lost  his  father  and  was  therefore  dependent 
upon  his  mother's  brother.  One  reason  for 
my  friendship  with  Chotu  was  his  superiority 
in  age.  He  was  the  eldest  of  the  pupils 
and  might  have  been  twelve  or  thirteen 
years  old  at  the  time.  There  is  a  strange 
fascination  for  children  in  one  of  superior 
age.  He  was  the  chief  pupil  of  the  school- 
master, and  that  worthy  used  to  lighten  his 
labours  by  entrusting  him  with  the  duty  of 
superintending  the  younger  ones.  The  school 
was  conducted  in  one  of  the  outer  apart- 
ments of  Babu  Krishna  Mohan's  house.  It 
began  at  half-past  seven  in  the  morning  and 
closed  at  ten.  But  the  pupils  were  usually 
on  the  spot  at  half-past  six,  and  found  Chotu 
seated  on  one  of  the  benches.  The  master 
did  not  appear  as  a  rule  until  an  hour  after 
the  school  had  opened,  and  it  was  Chotu 
who  took  charge  of  us  in  the  meantime. 
He  explained  our  lessons  to  us,  wrote  the 
alphabet  into  our  copy  books,  distributed 


AN  UNFINISHED   SONG         23 

sweetmeats  from  a  supply  in  his  pocket,  and 
spent  the  rest  of  his  time  getting  his  own 
lessons  by  heart,  perhaps  humming  a  song 
while  he  did  so.  This  seemed  to  be  a  char- 
acteristic habit  of  his.  At  times  we  used  to 
press  him  to  sing  louder  for  our  benefit,  but 
that  would  end  the  matter  immediately. 
Only  once  we  heard  him  distinctly  sing  a 
line  or  two  or  a  song.  It  was  one  morning 
as  we  were  about  to  enter  the  schoolroom. 
One  of  the  little  girls,  the  naughty  one, 
Prabha,  had  an  idea.  "  Listen,"  she  said, 
"  Chotu  is  singing.  Let  us  wait  and  hear 
him  awhile,  and  after  we  have  learnt  what 
he  sings,  we  will  tease  him  and  sing  the  song 
before  him." 

A  day  or  two  before  there  had  been  a 
theatrical  company  from  Calcutta  at  Babu 
Krishna  Mohan's  house  on  the  occasion  of 
his  son's  marriage.  I  went  to  their  perform- 
ance with  my  aunt,  but,  unfortunately,  I 
slept  through  more  than  half  of  it.  Once 
I  was  roused  from  my  sleep  by  a  tremendous 
noise  and  saw  a  Prince  dressed  in  brocade 
stamping  his  foot  upon  the  stage  in  a  furious 
passion  and  flourishing  a  wooden  sword. 
I  was  very  frightened  but  fell  asleep  again. 
Later  on  my  aunt  woke  me  to  see  a  number 


24        AN  UNFINISHED   SONG 

of  houris  suspended  in  the  air,  a  scene 
that  pleased  me.  I  thought  Chotu  might 
have  learned  his  song  at  this  performance  : — 

" .     .     .     .     Alas,  we  met 
When  moon  and  stars  had  faded, 
Springtime  had  fled  and  flowers  withered  lay, 
Garland  in  hand  through  the  dark  night  I  awaited.  .  .  ." 

Having  heard  Chotu  sing  thus  far  we 
entered  the  room  giggling  and  laughing  at 
him.  Later  I  regretted  I  had  not  listened  to 
the  song  until  it  was  finished,  and  looked 
through  numbers  of  books  of  poems,  but 
could  never  find  it  in  print.  But  now  poor 
Chotu  had  to  endure  his  tormentors  :  "  We 
heard  you,  you  thought  we  would  never  hear 
you  sing,  but  we  have."  Chotu  was  greatly 
abashed,  but  as  for  me  I  never  forgot  those 
lines,  although  I  only  heard  them  that  once. 

Chotu  gave  away  sweetmeats,  as  I  said 
before.  They  were  not  specially  good,  only 
what  we  got  every  day  at  home,  but  when 
received  from  his  hand,  they  were  like  the 
sweet  cakes  at  horiloot  that  are  thrown 
broadcast  among  the  people  and  are  sup- 
posed to  contain  special  merit. 

Now  these  sweetmeats  were  supposed  to 
be  the  reward  of  good  conduct,  but  soon 
became  the  reverse  in  my  case.  If  Chotu 


AN   UNFINISHED   SONG         25 

had  occasion  to  chide  me  for  any  naughtiness 
my  eyes  filled  with  tears  and  my  gaiety 
changed  very  suddenly.    This  seemed  to  be 
more  than  Chotu  could  bear,  and  contrary 
to  all  rules  he  would  give  me  a  much  larger 
share  of  the  coveted  sweets,  adding  caresses 
to  the  bountiful  gift.     This  unfortunately 
did  not  make  a  better  girl  of  me.     I  do  not 
know  whether  the  sweets  or  the  caresses 
were  at  fault,   but   certainly  my   caprices 
increased.     I  would  give  a  wrong  answer 
even   when    I    knew   my   lesson    well.     If 
Chotu  came  to  examine  my  writing  I  would 
spill  a  drop  of  ink  on  his  hand  and  laugh  out- 
right at  what  I  had  done.     If  he  explained 
a  sum  on  the  blackboard,  I  considered  it  a 
special  joke  to  rub  out  the  chalk  and  wipe  it 
over  him.     If  on  these  occasions  he  showed 
any   annoyance,   I    invariably    resorted   to 
tears,  but  if  he  entered  into  the  spirit  of  the 
thing  and  retorted  with  further  pranks  my 
merriment   knew   no   bounds.    The   result 
of  it  all  was  that  Chotu's  position  as  a 
schoolmaster  must  have  been  wellnigh  un- 
bearable to  him,  for  all  the  children  gradu- 
ally followed  my  example,  and  there  used  to 
be  lively  scenes  in   the  little  schoolroom. 
My  father  no  longer  received  the  choicest 


26         AN   UNFINISHED   SONG 

flowers,  for  one  bunch  was  given  to  Chotu 
every  day  in  return  for  his  sweetmeats  and 
kind  treatment.  When  I  questioned  in 
my  own  little  heart  which  afforded  me  the 
greater  pleasure,  the  gift  of  flowers  to  father 
or  to  Chotu,  I  was  unable  to  answer.  If 
in  the  early  morning  I  found  a  bud  that 
specially  pleased  me,  the  thought  of  father 
and  of  Chotu  entered  my  mind  at  the  same 
moment.  I  was  anxious  to  see  Chotu  every 
morning,  but  at  dusk  I  waited  as  eagerly  for 
my  father's  return.  I  seemed  to  love  him 
most  with  whom  I  was  for  the  time  being. 
I  became  more  emphatic  in  assuring  my 
father  how  deeply  I  loved  him,  at  which 
he  was  evidently  amused,  for  he  usually 
replied  by  saying, 

"Do  you  really?" 

"  Truly,  father,  I  mean  it." 

Then  my  father  would  smile  and  kiss  me. 
Now  Chotu  had  never  yet  kissed  me,  so 
surely  it  was  father  who  loved  me  most. 
Then  why  should  I  bestow  so  much  affection 
upon  Chotu  ?  For  love  expects  love  in 
return  ;  of  this  I  was  convinced  even  in  my 
infancy,  although  no  one  had  told  me  so. 

Thus  passed  two  years,  years  so  happy  and 
full  of  childish  delights.  Often  in  later  life 


AN   UNFINISHED   SONG         27 

how  I  recalled  those  days  when  I  studied 
with  Chotu  in  the  little  country  school. 
Ten  years  have  passed  since  then.  I  have 
known  the  fiery  passion  of  youth.  Mighty 
joys  and  sorrows,  ambitions  and  aspirations 
have  come  and  gone,  yet  lingers  still  the 
memory  of  those  days,  the  memory  of  the 
love  of  my  early  life,  when  such  happiness 
was  mine  as  I  have  never  known  since, 
because  it  was  unmixed  with  any  sorrow. 
But  life  has  ever  been  a  vast  riddle  to  me. 
After  two  years  my  father  was  again 
transferred,  and  about  that  time  my  sister's 
marriage  took  place. 


CHAPTER  III 


CHAPTER  III 

I  SAW  Him  first  at  my  sister's  house  at  a 
tennis  party.  My  sister's  husband  is  a 
barrister  who  took  his  degree  in  England. 
He  has  a  small  party  at  his  house  every  week 
for  tennis.  He,  too,  has  been  abroad,  and 
is  distantly  related  to  my  brother-in-law. 

So  I  met  him  and  fell  in  love  with  him  at 
first  sight,  I  hear  my  credulous  reader  laugh- 
ingly assert.  No,  not  that,  far  from  it. 
I  am  not  recording  a  romance  ;  we  only 
became  acquainted.  I  saw  him  look  at  me 
and  smile,  and  then  turning  to  my  sister, 
he  remarked  in  a  low  tone,  "  You  are  keeping 
a  jewel  concealed  in  a  mine,  and  letting 
a  lotus  fade  away  in  a  wooden  box." 

My  name  is  Mrinalini  (Lotus),  but  they 
call  me  Moni  (Jewel).  I  overheard  his 
remark,  and  it  jarred  on  me.  My  brother- 
in-law,  however,  took  it  up  and  gave  a  whole 
verse  of  poetry  in  reply  : — 

"  Full  many  a  gem  of  purest  ray  serene 

The  dark  unfathomed  caves  of  ocean  bear. 
Full  many  a  flower  is  born  to  blush  unseen, 
And  waste  its  sweetness  on  the  desert  air." 


32         AN   UNFINISHED   SONG 

Brothers  and  sisters-in-law  in  this  country 
have  the  time-honoured  privilege  of  teasing 
and  joking  with  one  another  as  much  as 
they  like.  But,  alas  for  poor  me !  I  was 
so  shy,  and  so  unequal  a  match  for  him, 
that  all  I  could  do  was  to  smile  pleasantly 
and  grumble  inwardly  the  whole  time. 

Then  there  was  my  sister's  brother-in-law, 
who  had  taken  his  M.A.  degree  in  Sanskrit 
and  would  not  let  the  opportunity  pass  of 
showing  off  his  learning.  So  he  replied  with 
a  Sanskrit  quotation,  which  meant  that  a 
jewel  does  not  seek  anyone,  it  has  to  be 
sought. 

Everyone  smiled,  but  I  did  not  enjoy  the 
joke  at  my  expense,  nor  look  with  special 
favour  upon  the  man  who  had  occasioned 
it.  However,  this  was  before  tennis  began, 
and  the  feeling  was  modified  later  on.  After 
play  was  over  the  guests  assembled  in  the 
drawing-room,  and  he  was  asked  to  sing. 
He  consented,  and  sang  an  English  song. 
But  my  sister  was  not  satisfied,  and  urged 
him  to  sing  in  Bengali.  He  made  some  objec- 
tions and  apologies,  but  finally  yielded. 
But  what  was  this  ?  The  song  he  sang 
was  the  same  I  had  heard  Chotu  sing  in  the 
schoolroom  of  my  childhood  : 


AN   UNFINISHED   SONG         33 

"  Alas,  we  met 

When  moon  and  stars  had  faded, 

Spring-time  had  fled  and  flowers 

Withered  lay." 

But  I  heard  it  clearly  now,  no  longer  in  the 
humming  tone  in  which  Chotu  used  to  sing 
it.  His  voice  blended  with  the  notes  of  the 
piano  and  filled  the  house  with  sweet  melody. 
I  stood  spellbound  and  listened  like  one 
in  a  trance.  I  drank  in  every  word  of  the 
song  as  one  parched  with  thirst  will  drink 
without  breathing  when  at  last  he  finds  the 
spring  he  sought. 

Alas,  this  is  a  world  of  disappointment, 
seldom  here  do  we  get  what  we  long 
for  in  its  entirety.  Scarcely  was  the  song 
begun  when  it  was  interrupted.  A  friend 
of  the  family,  Mr.  Mullick,  entered  the 
drawing-room,  accompanied  by  his  wife  and 
daughter.  Both  the  player  and  the  singer 
left  their  places  and  joined  in  greeting  the 
visitors.  This  formality  ended,  the  singer 
was  urged  to  finish  his  song,  but  he  refused. 
Miss  Mullick  was  reputed  to  be  a  good  singer  ; 
every  one,  except  me,  urged  her  to  sing, 
and  she  remained  at  the  piano  till  the  time 
came  for  us  to  break  up  shortly  afterwards. 

Miss  Mullick,  or  Kusum  as  we  called  her, 


34         AN   UNFINISHED   SONG 

had  hardly  any  chance  of  entering  a  protest 
in  her  modest  way.  She  sang,  and  the 
listeners  were  so  charmed  that  they  urged 
her  to  sing  again  and  again. 

The  mellow  harmony  of  Ku sum's  voice, 
however,  was  lost  on  me.  I  heard  only  one 
song  and  the  music  of  that  dwelt  in  my 
heart : 

"  Alas,  we  met 

When  moon  and  stars  had  faded, 

Spring-time  had  fled  and  flowers 

Withered  lay." 

The  music  ceased  in  time.  The  guests 
departed  and  the  house  was  quiet  once 
more.  But  the  song  that  had  entered  my 
soul  rang  through  me  still,  and  even  in  my 
dream  that  night  I  heard  it,  and  saw  the 
schoolroom  of  my  childhood  once  more, 
now  filled,  so  it  seemed,  with  the  furniture 
of  my  sister's  drawing  room  ;  a  party  of 
guests  had  assembled,  and  I  thought  I 
heard  some  one  sing  the  same  sweet  song, 
not  softly  humming  as  of  old,  but  singing 
with  a  full  and  manly  voice,  while  his 
beautiful  eyes  were  fixed  on  me  in  a  loving 

look — 

"  Alas,  we  met 

When  moon  and  stars  had  faded, 
Spring-time  had  fled  and  flowers 
Withered  lay." 


AN  UNFINISHED  SONG         35 

The  music  of  that  song  and  the  deep 
tenderness  of  those  eyes  fixed  upon  me  sent 
a  thrill  of  delight  through  me  and  I  awoke 
and  found  it  was  dawn. 

I  wished  to  hear  that  song  again  and 
again.  It  seemed  I  had  no  other  wish.  On 
that  account  alone  did  I  look  forward  to 
next  week's  tennis  party.  The  day  came, 
the  guests  assembled,  but  the  singer  of  that 
song  of  mine  was  absent.  This  was  a  source 
of  great  disappointment  to  me.  At  the 
dinner  table  I  ventured  to  enquire. 

"  Why  has  not  Mr.  Roy  been  here  to- 
day ?  " 

My  sister  reiterated  my  question.  "  I 
was  thinking  of  the  same  thing,"  she  said. 
"  Why  did  not  Mr.  Roy  come  ?  " 

This  gave  my  brother-in-law  a  chance  for 
a  joke.  "Indeed!  Well,  had  he  known  he 
would  be  missed  so  much,  he  would  surely 
have  come.  Shall  I  send  for  him  ?  ': 

This  was  all  lost  on  me.  I  was  attracted 
to  the  singer,  not  to  the  man,  and  so  I  an- 
swered unabashed. 

"  Yes  send  for  him,  he  sings  well.  I  wish 
to  hear  him  sing  once  more." 

I  had  no  motive  other  than  to  hear  the 
song,  but  I  soon  saw  that  they  had,  for  my 


36         AN   UNFINISHED   SONG 

sister  replied  eagerly,  "  Romanath  has  called 
several  times,  but  we  have  never  yet  invited 
him  to  dine.  We  ought  to  do  so."  My 
brother-in-law  agreed  very  readily.  Mr. 
Roy  was  accordingly  invited  and  came  in  due 
course. 

When  1  saw  him  again,  I  was  somewhat 
disappointed.  I  had  seen  him  only  once 
before,  and  his  personality  had  not  made  a 
very  lasting  impression  upon  me.  Meanwhile 
ten  or  twelve  days  had  elapsed.  During 
this  time,  my  fancy  had  been  busy.  I  had 
imagined  him  to  be  like  the  vision  I  had  seen 
in  my  dream.  Though  I  did  not  remember 
the  features  I  saw  in  my  dream  vision,  I 
recalled  the  deep  and  loving  look. 

The  man  I  met  at  dinner  was  certainly 
handsome.  He  had  finely  cut  aristocratic  feat- 
ures, a  well-shaped  head  with  beautiful  hair, 
and  he  wore  a  glossy  jet  black  moustache, 
but  his  eyes — ah,  there  lay  the  difference  ! 
They  had  not  that  tender,  fond  expression 
I  had  seen  in  my  dream.  In  his  conver- 
sation, too,  I  searched  in  vain  for  the  ideal. 
His  humour  seemed  very  forced.  He  paid 
many  compliments  which  seemed  uncalled 
for,  jarring  on  a  Hindu  maiden's  ears.  It 
was,  perhaps,  my  untrained  taste  that  was 


37 

at  fault.  For  how  could  one  who  had  so 
long  been  accustomed  to  the  best  English 
society  show  other  than  good  manners  ? 

In  the  course  of  conversation  my  sister 
enquired  the  reason  of  his  absence  from  last 
week's  tennis  party. 

He  had  accepted  an  invitation  to  the 
Mullicks  that  day,  he  explained. 

"  I  had  refused  them  so  often,"  he  con- 
tinued, "  that  I  had  not  the  heart  to  do  so 
again.  Did  you  really  expect  me  ?  If  I 
had  known  that  I  would  sooner  have  sacri- 
ficed a  thousand  Mullicks." 

"  I  say,  Romanath,"  broke  in  my  brother- 
in-law,  "  don't  get  so  very  eloquent,  it 
might  make  me  jealous,  you  know." 

"  What  songs  had  you  after  dinner  ?  " 
my  sister  enquired.  "  Does  not  Miss  Mul- 
lick  sing  well  ?  ': 

Mr.  Roy  smiled  as  he  replied, 

"  Yes — at  least  that  is  her  reputation,  the 
general  belief.  What  a  lovely  colour,  it 
suits  your  complexion  beautifully." 

The  last  remark  applied  to  the  colour  I 
wore.  My  seat  at  the  table  was  beside  him, 
but  no  conversation  of  any  importance 
passed  between  us.  My  brother-in-law  con- 
versed with  him  on  political  topics.  He  spoke 


38         AN    UNFINISHED    SONG 

to  me  at  intervals,  but  we  did  not  get  far 
beyond  questions  and  answers.  "  Could  I 
sing  ?  "  "  Did  I  read  poetry  ?  "  "  What 
poet  was  my  favourite  ?  J:  "  How  long  did 
I  expect  to  remain  at  my  sister's  ?  " 

In  return  I  expressed  my  admiration  of 
his  song,  and  most  sincere  I  was  when  I 
expressed  it.  Possibly  he  was  pleased, 
for  he  replied,  "  I  do  not  know  many 
Bengali  songs,  I  see  I  must  learn  them 
now." 

This  was  the  only  remark  I  heard  him 
make  that  seemed  agreeable  to  me  ;  I 
thought  he  spoke  sincerely  then. 

After  dinner  he  sang  again, 

"  Alas,  we  met 

When  moon  and  stars  had  faded, 
Spring-time  had  fled  and  flowers  withered  lay. 
Garland  in  hand  through  the  dark  night  I  awaited 
The  bridegroom  who  would  come  when  all  was  bright 

and  gay. 
Then  the  house  would  be  filled  with  fragrance  and 

soft  music, 
And  the  mellow  flute  the  tune  of   Sahana1  would 

play." 

The  song  was  over,  but  to  me  it  was 
unfinished,  something  was  left  out.  I  was 
charmed  but  not  satisfied. 

1  The  tune  played  at  weddings. 


AN    UNFINISHED    SONG         39 

He  then  approached  me,  as  ever,  with  a 
compliment  on  his  lips. 

"  I  wish  I  were  an  artist,  I  would  paint  you 
as  I  see  you  now."  This  time  I  was  not 
annoyed  ;  he  seemed  no  longer  a  stranger  to 
me.  Of  a  sudden  the  dream  vision  and  he 
were  blended  into  one.  And  I  saw  whom  ? 
Him  or  another  ? 


CHAPTER  IV 


CHAPTER  IV 

I  FELT  like  one  mesmerised,  and  this  condi- 
tion was  repeated  every  time  he  called  at 
the  house.  When  I  received  him,  I  was 
perfectly  indifferent,  even  in  conversation. 
I  felt  towards  him  as  a  mere  acquaintance, 
but  when  he  began  to  sing  my  whole  nature 
changed.  It  was  ever  the  same  song,  and 
that  song  was  the  enchantress.  I  resolved 
not  to  ask  him  to  sing  again,  but  when  the 
time  came  I  could  not  resist.  The  strange 
fascination  of  the  song  lay  in  its  power 
to  bring  back  to  my  memory  the  days 
of  my  childhood.  It  poured  a  flood  of 
feeling  over  me  that  awoke  the  dormant 
emotions  of  the  maiden,  and  ere  the  song 
was  ended,  it  created  a  vortex  in  which  I 
felt  myself  carried  into  the  realm  of  the 
ideal,  searching  for  something  I  knew  and  yet 
I  knew  not.  I  was  lost  in  an  intense  longing  ; 
it  seemed  as  if  a  god  had  taken  possession 
of  him  who  sang.  Anon  as  I  listened  to  the 
melody  it  broke  the  barriers  of  time  until 

43 


44         AN  UNFINISHED   SONG 

the  past  and  the  present  were  blended  and 
the  singer  himself  became  identified  with 
one  I  had  known  of  old,  until  I  felt  as  if  I 
were  walking  in  a  trance. 

Nor  was  the  spell  broken  by  his  departure  ; 
I  often  remained  in  a  partial  stupor  during 
the  entire  night.  Waking  or  sleeping  I 
could  not  banish  that  song  from  my  heart. 
In  a  day  or  two,  however,  I  usually  man- 
aged to  master  myself,  and  when  I  met  him 
again  after  a  week  or,  perhaps,  sooner,  I 
was  perfectly  self-controlled.  Still  I  was 
shy  on  receiving  him,  because  I  remembered 
the  spell  his  music  exercised  over  me.  My 
condition  became  an  enigma  to  me.  As  the 
sky  assumes  different  colours  before  and 
after  sunset,  so  did  my  whole  nature  change 
with  the  coming  and  disappearance  of  the 
effect  that  that  song  had  over  me. 

Gradually,  however,  this  condition  be- 
came permanent,  and  I  began  to  realise  the 
thoughts  of  others.  There  was  but  one 
opinion,  one  influence  around  me — this 
man  was  to  be  my  husband,  and  to  the 
thoughts  of  those  surrounding  me  I  yielded 
as  every  maiden  of  Bengal  would  yield. 

No  Westerner  can  realise  what  a  powerful 
influence  matrimony  has  upon  the  life  of  a 


AN   UNFINISHED   SONG         45 

Hindu  woman.  Her  husband  is  the  repre- 
sentation of  the  Divine  on  earth  to  her,  the 
object  of  her  worship.  There  can  be  no 
mistake  whoever  he  may  be  ;  he  is  the  only 
one,  and  none  other  ever  dare  claim  a  thought 
in  her  mind.  She  has  been  trained  in  this 
conviction  throughout  the  ages  until  it  has 
moulded  her  nature  and  is  in  itself  enough 
to  awaken  her  love  and  foster  it. 

Wherever  I  went  I  heard  this  one  theme. 
My  girl  friends  joked  me  about  him.  Older 
people  discussed  the  matter  freely  with  my 
sister  even  in  my  presence.  My  sister  and 
brother-in-law  let  no  opportunity  pass  of 
expressing  their  joy  at  my  future  happi- 
ness, sometimes  jokingly,  sometimes  in 
serious  conversation.  There  was  no  ground 
for  thinking  even  in  my  imagination  that 
this  marriage  would  not  take  place,  espe- 
cially since  he  himself  strengthened  the 
conviction  from  day  to  day.  His  visits 
became  more  frequent,  his  attentions  more 
pronounced.  That  he  had  not  so  far  pro- 
posed to  me,  seemed  to  me  due  to  a  desire 
on  his  part  to  understand  my  feeling  to- 
wards him  better. 

Love  creates  love,  there  is  no  other  power 
so  potent.  When  the  heart  is  not  occupied 


46        AN  UNFINISHED   SONG 

with  other  aspirations,  it  can  soon  be  won 
over  to  love.  As  long  as  he  who  woos  is  not 
repulsive  to  the  maiden  of  his  choice  he  has 
little  difficulty  in  awaking  sympathy  in  her 
heart,  and  sympathy  will  grow  into  love 
ere  long.  There  is  always  the  desire  in  the 
female  breast  to  make  another  happy  by 
self-abnegation,  for  love  is  woman's  whole 
nature,  its  desires  and  aspirations  are  her 
life  blood.  This  ideal  may  carry  her  to  the 
very  gates  of  Heaven  or,  alas,  if  it  is  mis- 
placed, if  it  finds  not  the  right  support,  it 
may  drag  woman  very  low,  and  when  she 
sins,  it  is  because  she  has  loved  too  much, 
trusted  too  much  and  desired  to  sacrifice 
herself  to  her  devotion. 

He  gradually  became  to  me  the  perfect 
ideal  realised.  His  manly  bearing,  his 
engaging  manners,  these  won  my  heart.  I 
became  proud  of  the  fact  that  one  so  wonder- 
ful should  have  chosen  me  as  the  object  of 
his  love.  Nor  did  the  period  of  uncertainty 
last  long.  The  day  came  when  he  told  me 
what  was  in  his  heart,  the  day  to  which  I  had 
learned  to  look  forward  with  pleasing  antici- 
pations— but ! 

I  was  gathering  flowers  in  the  garden.  It 
was  evening,  and  just  after  a  rain-shower. 


AN  UNFINISHED   SONG         47 

The  air  was  doubly  refreshing,  and  the 
flowers  more  beautiful.  The  setting  sun 
illuminated  the  western  sky  with  crimson 
glory,  and  reflected  its  hues  on  the  clouds 
and  on  the  garden  in  which  I  stood.  I  tried 
to  pluck  a  rose  but  pricked  my  fingers. 
Just  then  my  attention  was  arrested  by  a 
carriage  entering  the  compound.  It  was 
he,  and  he  came  near  and  secured  the  obstin- 
ate rose  for  me. 

"  For  whom  are  you  plucking  these 
flowers  ?  "  he  questioned  softly. 

Yes,  for  whom  was  I  plucking  these 
flowers  ?  That  question  I  had  revolved 
in  my  own  mind  ever  since  I  came  into  the 
garden.  In  my  childhood  I  had  gathered 
flowers,  but  there  was  no  question  about  it 
then,  they  were  for  Chotu,  but  for  whom 
were  these  ?  I  could  not  give  them  to  Mr. 
Roy,  however  hard  I  might  try. 

"  For  my  sister "  I  faltered  shyly.  I 
heard  him  sigh  and  then  he  picked  a 
rose,  the  most  beautiful  one  to  be  seen, 
put  it  into  my  hand,  and  repeated  a 
verse : — 

•"  A  lamp  is  lit  in  woman's  eye, 
That  souls  else  lost  on  earth 
Remember  angels  by." 


48         AN   UNFINISHED   SONG 

I  blushed  and  invited  him  to  enter  the 
house. 

"  Go  first  and  I  will  follow  you,"  was  his 
reply.  "  Do  you  remember  you  have  prom- 
ised to  sing  to-night  ?  " 

We  went  upstairs.  My  brother-in-law 
had  not  returned  home,  and  letting  my  sister 
know  through  a  servant  that  Mr.  Roy  had 
come,  I  entered  the  drawing-room  with  him. 

He  urged  me  to  take  my  place  at  the  piano 
and  sing.  "  Please  do  sing,"  he  said,  "  the 
song  I  love,  '  Oh,  mellow  night  with  moon- 
light softly  shining.' ' 

But  I  decided  since  this  was  a  song  that 
appealed  to  the  night,  it  might  better  be 
sung  later  in  the  evening.  He  left  the 
matter  to  my  choice,  selecting,  however, 
another  of  his  favourites. 

"  Sing  '  Sweet  Bird  of  Beauty  ' ;  you 
know  the  poem,  I  suppose  ?  " 

And  then  he  recited  the  words, 

"  To  me  there  is  but  one  place  in  the  world. 

And  that  is  where  thou  art  ; 

For  wherever  I  may  be, 
My  love  doth  find  its  way 

Into  thy  heart, 

As  doth  a  bird 
Into  her  secret  nest. 

Then  sit  and  sing, 

Sweet  bird  of  beauty,  sing." 


AN   UNFINISHED   SONG         49 

I  urged  him  in  return  to  sing  to  me,  I 
wished  to  hear  it.  He  took  no  notice  of  my 
request,  but  replied, 

"  I  like  one  of  Shelley's  poems  greatly,  you 
must  have  read  it. 

'  We,  are  we  not  as  notes  of  music  are 
To  one  another  though  dissimilar  T 
Such  difference  without  discord  as  can  make 
Those  sweetest  sounds  in  which  all  spirits  shake, 
As  trembling  leaves  in  a  continuous  air  ? '  " 

I  remained  silent,  but  he  spoke  again. 
"  I  once  thought,"  he  continued,  "  that  all 
good  poems  were  more  or  less  hollow,  that 
they  were  devoid  of  truth  and  consisted  of 
mere  fantasies,  but  I  have  learned  to  feel 
that  I  was  mistaken.  How  do  they  appeal 
to  you  ?  " 

"  I  have  not  thought  about  them  in  that 
way.  I  read  poems  and  like  them.  That 
is  all  I  know." 

"  But,"  he  argued,  "  unless  you  feel 
them  to  be  true  can  you  appreciate  their 
beauty  ?  In  earlier  days  I  used  to  be  dis- 
pleased with  a  love  story  because  it  seemed 
to  me  untrue  and  impossible.  I  see  differ- 
ently now  ;  I  now  understand  that 

'  There  are  more  things  in  heaven  and  earth,  Horatio, 
Than  ar«  dreamt  of  in  your  philosophy.' 


50         AN  UNFINISHED   SONG 

I  never  would  have  thought  that  I  would 
learn  to  realise  all  this  in  my  own  life." 

Then  he  turned  towards  me  with  eyes  rilled 
with  sorrow  and  softly  whispered  : — 

"  '  To  see  her  is  to  love  her,  and  love  but  her  forever.' 

Must  I  speak  more  plainly  still  ? 

f  To  see  you  is  to  love  you, 
And  love  but  you  forever.'  " 

He  was  interrupted  by  my  brother-in- 
law,  who  entered  the  room  just  then  in  a  gay 
mood. 

"  Hallo,"  he  ejaculated,  "  how  long  have 
you  been  here  ?  Just  winding  up  the 
game  ?  Final  proposal  in  poetry,  it  seems. 
Hurrah,  let  me  congratulate  you." 

Mr.  Roy  was  somewhat  abashed  at  this 
unexpected  intrusion,  but  in  a  minute  he 
was  master  of  the  situation. 

"  You  are  very  late  in  returning  this  even- 
ing," he  said  calmly.  "  We  were  whiling 
away  the  time  as  best  we  could.  By  the 
by,  did  you  win  that  murder-case  of  yours  ? 
Did  you  get  that  poor  fellow  off  ?  " 

To  an  advocate  no  subject  is  so  welcome 
as  a  talk  about  his  cases,  and  my  brother- 
in-law  forgot  everything  else  at  this  ques- 
tion. The  two  discussed  the  case.  Mean- 


AN  UNFINISHED   SONG         51 

while  I  was  like  one  in  a  dream.  I  tried  to 
think.  He  had  expressed  his  feelings  for 
me, — was  I  happy  now  ?  The  voice  of  my 
heart  did  not  reply.  Something  displeased 
me,  I  knew  not  what,  but  I  recalled  my 
first  meeting  with  him  and  remembered  that 
I  had  experienced  a  similar  feeling  then. 
There  was  something  in  it  that  jarred  upon 
me.  I  was  surrounded  by  happiness,  all 
was  beauty  ;  I  did  not  deny  that.  I  felt 
like  one  into  whose  cup  of  nectar  a  drop  of 
poison  has  fallen.  The  light  of  my  heart 
became  suddenly  dimmed,  I  knew  not  why. 
It  dawned  upon  me  that  this  was  not  what 
I  had  longed  for,  it  was  all  so  short  of  my 
expectations. 

While  I  was  absorbed  in  my  thoughts  and 
the  others  talked,  the  servant  came  in  with 
two  cards  and  announced  the  arrival  of  a 
client  and  a  visitor.  My  brother-in-law 
took  up  the  cards,  and  exclaimed,  "  The 
doctor,  Binoy  Kumar  Chaudhury.  Moni,  go 
and  call  your  sister.  Show  him  in,  Durwan." 

I  went,  and  hardly  had  I  crossed  the 
threshold  when  I  heard  the  voice  of  the 
visitor.  Curiosity  got  the  better  of  me  and 
I  stopped  to  have  a  glance  at  him  through 
the  partially  drawn  curtains.  My  brother- 


52         AN  UNFINISHED   SONG 

in-law  had  already  left  the  room  to  see  his 
client,  and  the  newcomer  was  left  alone 
with  my  lover.  It  was  thus  that  I  over- 
heard a  most  extraordinary  conversation. 
The  doctor  spoke  first. 

"  By  the  way,  I  met  Miss  K.  just  before 
leaving  England.  She  seemed  very  anxious 
to  know  whether  you  had  arrived  safely 
and  why  you  had  not  sent  her  the  money 
for  her  passage  out  to  India.  You  know  her 
relatives  will  have  nothing  to  do  with  her 
since  her  engagement  to  you.  So  the 
poor  girl  .  .  ." 

I  began  to  tremble,  and  it  required  a 
great  effort  to  keep  on  my  feet. 

"  Nonsense,"  replied  Mr.  Roy,  "  there 
never  was  a  formal  engagement.  I  thought 
that  affair  was  a  thing  of  the  past.  For 
goodness'  sake  don't  start  the  subject 
here,  my  friends  might  consider  me  a  villain 
if  they  heard  of  it." 

"  What  else  can  you  make  yourself  out 
to  be  ?  "  was  the  doctor's  firm  reply.  "  Do 
you  consider  it  honourable  conduct  to 
forsake  a  young  girl  who  trusted  you  ? 
Before  God  you  were  man  and  wife." 

I  do  not  know  what  happened  after  this. 
I  fell  fainting  to  the  ground. 


CHAPTER  V 


CHAPTER   V 

WHEN  I  recovered  consciousness,  I  saw  a 
pair  of  tender  eyes  resting  anxiously  and 
lovingly  upon  me.  Once  again  that  strange 
enchantment  took  hold  upon  me  when  I 
confounded  past  and  present,  when  the  days 
of  my  childhood  seemed  so  near,  so  real 
that  I  felt  myself  moving  in  the  scenes  of 
early  days,  surrounded  by  the  love  that 
then  was  mine.  Ah,  the  look  of  tender 
love  was  there  that  I  had  seen  in  the  eyes 
of  my  childhood's  friend,  that  look  for 
which  in  vain  I  had  sought  in  the  eyes  of 
my  lover.  The  delusion  lasted  a  moment 
only,  and  I  saw  it  was  not  he,  but  the  doctor 
who  was  bending  over  me. 

"  Thank  God,  the  danger  is  passed,  she 
is  saved,"  I  heard  him  say. 

My  sister  sat  beside  me.  She  looked 
like  one  who  had  undergone  suffering  and 
fatigue.  Her  voice  was  weak  and  nervous 
as  she  spoke.  She  held  medicine  to  my 
lips  and  urged  me  to  take  it. 

55 


56         AN  UNFINISHED   SONG 

I  could  not  realise  the  situation.  "  Why 
must  I  take  medicine  ? "  I  questioned. 
"  Am  I  ill  ?  " 

My  brother-in-law  replied,  I  saw  he 
made  an  effort  to  be  cheerful,  "  There 
is  nothing  the  matter  with  you.  It  is  not 
medicine  we  are  offering  you,  only  a  little 
sherbet ;  do  take  it."  And  turning  to  the 
doctor  he  continued,  "  Romanath  is  anxious 
to  see  her,  may  he  do  so  ?  " 

"  It  would  be  better  not  to  disturb  her 
for  a  while,"  was  the  doctor's  reply.  "  She 
requires  sleep  to  recover  her  nerves.  Let 
us  retire.  Her  sister  then  may  lull  her  to 
sleep.  There  is  no  necessity  for  my  remain- 
ing here  any  longer.  With  your  per- 
mission I  will  call  and  see  her  to-morrow 
morning." 

"  Certainly,"  replied  my  brother-in-law. 
"  What  should  we  have  done  if  you  had  not 
been  here  to-day  ?  I  don't  know  how  to 
thank  you." 

These  last  words  were  said  as  the  doctor 
left  the  room.  I  was  most  uneasy  in  mind. 
Some  feeling  weighed  me  down  like  a 
heavy  load,  and  finally  found  vent  in  a 
flood  of  tears.  I  knew  not  what  came 
over  me  but  my  fond  sister  was  there  to 


AN  UNFINISHED   SONG         57 

comfort  me,  and  against  her  loving  heart 
I  rested  my  weary  head,  asking  the  one 
question  that  occurred  to  me, 

"  Am  I  going  mad,  sister  ?  J: 

Dear,  kind  sister,  how  tenderly  she 
caressed  me,  how  solicitous  she  was  of  my 
well-being. 

"  Do  not  talk,  Moni,  darling,"  she  urged 
gently,  "  the  doctor  has  recommended  sleep. 
Rest  quietly  and  you  will  fall  asleep  soon," 
and  passing  her  hand  tenderly  over  my 
head,  she  tried  to  soothe  my  excited  nerves. 

I  endeavoured  to  be  calm  but  could  not 
check  the  flood  of  my  tears.  I  could  not 
understand  the  cause  of  my  sadness.  Why 
I  wept  I  knew  not,  for  I  was  conscious  of 
neither  pleasure  nor  pain  yet  I  continued 
sobbing  like  a  child.  At  last  I  fell  asleep, 
fondled  by  my  sister's  loving  hand.  Through- 
out the  entire  night  I  was  haunted  by 
restless  dreams,  my  sleep  was  not  peaceful. 
I  was  like  one  lying  in  a  trance.  I  was 
awake  and  yet  the  nightmare  of  weird 
dreams  surrounded  me.  It  seemed  as  if 
all  the  events  of  my  life  crowded  into  my 
brain  at  once  and  then  left  it  as  quickly, 
leaving  behind  a  sensation  of  peculiar 
emptiness.  I  found  myself  talking  to  some 


58         AN  UNFINISHED   SONG 

one,  who  suddenly  changed  into  another. 
Again,  I  was  dressing  to  go  visiting  but 
could  not  finish  my  toilet.  I  went  to  secure 
a  carriage,  but  could  not  find  one.  I  began 
to  walk  and  walk  but  reached  no  destination, 
or  if  I  did  reach  it,  I  was  confused  about  the 
house  I  was  to  enter.  Thus  the  night  was 
spent  in  a  whirlpool  of  confused  imaginings. 
Only  towards  morning  I  had  a  vivid  dream 
and  I  remembered  it  on  waking.  I  dreamt 
my  marriage  was  being  performed,  and  I 
looked  wistfully  at  the  bridegroom,  but 
thought  that  it  was  not  he  for  whom  my 
soul  had  yearned.  The  thought  seemed  to 
break  my  heart,  and  I  cast  my  eyes  down. 
Then  I  saw  his  feet  and  instantly  I  realised 
that  it  was  he  after  all.  Suddenly  a  divine 
happiness  flowed  into  my  being  and  in  my 
ecstasy  I  called  out,  "  It  is  he,  it  is  he." 
The  sound  of  my  own  voice  startled  me, 
and  I  awoke.  The  day  was  already  ad- 
vanced and  I  felt  relieved  and  stronger, 
notwithstanding  the  haunting  nightmare. 
Still  I  was  not  myself,  the  illusion  had  not 
entirely  departed. 

I  thought  I  heard  again  the  conversation 
between  the  doctor  and  Mr.  Roy,  and  the 
strange  experience  that  I  underwent  made 


AN   UNFINISHED   SONG         59 

me  imagine  I  was  another  being  from  what 
I  had  been  yesterday,  and  that  the  con- 
ditions of  yesterday  had  disappeared  and 
to-day  was  another  world.  My  heart  was 
filled  with  disappointment ;  still  I  knew  not 
that  anguish,  that  intolerable  pain  of  which 
I  have  heard  those  tell  who  have  had  a 
similar  experience.  Nor  was  I  carried  away 
by  that  ideal  faith  that,  however  depraved 
he  might  be  whom  I  was  to  wed,  he  was  my 
husband  now  and  forever,  and  that  I  must 
worship  him,  be  the  conditions  what  they 
might.  Deceived  by  him  whom  I  had 
trusted  so  intensely  I  felt  as  did  the  beggar 
saint  Durbassa  who,  when  asking  the  love- 
stricken  Sakuntala  for  alms,  was  roused  to 
anger  because  she  noticed  him  not.  Even 
so  my  pride  was  wounded,  and  I  began  to 
loathe  the  deceiver.  My  indignation  turned 
upon  myself  as  well.  Why  had  I  been  so 
blind  as  to  take  a  renegade  for  a  god  ? 
Still  I  felt  a  grim  pleasure  at  being  dis- 
illusioned, for  now  I  knew  him  as  he  really 
was,  and  from  this  man  my  thought  wan- 
dered to  the  other,  whom  only  yesterday  I 
had  seen  for  the  first  time,  the  doctor,  who 
had  attended  me  while  I  was  unconscious  and 
the  light  of  whose  eyes  had  welcomed  me 


60         AN   UNFINISHED   SONG 

back  to  life.  I  saw  the  difference  between 
the  two.  I  realised  in  the  latter  a  strong 
and  manly  character  that  claimed  respect 
from  all  with  whom  it  came  into  touch. 

Thus  passed  the  day.  I  felt  my  strength 
returning  gradually.  After  dusk  my  sister 
again  sat  beside  me,  and  seeing  me  much 
improved  she  began  to  speak  to  me  of  my 
ailment,  tenderly  questioning  me  of  the 
cause  that  had  brought  on  yesterday's 
attack. 

"  You  have  not  had  an  attack  of  hysteria 
for  a  long  time  "  she  began.  "  We  thought 
you  were  cured.  I  am  afraid  you  have 
stayed  up  late  at  night  reading  novels. 
Moni,  will  you  never  learn  to  take  care  of 
yourself  ?  Really  if  you  are  indifferent  as 
regards  yourself,  you  ought  to  be  careful 
for  the  sake  of  those  who  are  so  anxious 
about  you." 

I  assured  her  I  had  not  been  at  all 
careless. 

"  Why  then,  this  sudden  relapse  ?  Oh, 
Moni,  if  I  could  tell  you  what  anxiety  we 
suffered  yesterday !  Oh,  the  terror  that 
took  hold  of  me  when  I  found  you  lying 
in  the  corridor.  I  called  out  for  help  and  the 
two  visitors  who  were  in  the  drawing- 


AN   UNFINISHED   SONG         61 

room  came  to  the  rescue.  Fortunately 
the  doctor  was  at  hand ;  what  would 
have  happened  otherwise  I  do  not  know. 
Oh,  how  pale  and  wretched  poor  Romanath 
looked.  When  we  brought  you  into  your 
own  room — you  know  he  could  not  very 
well  come  in  to  see  you,  because  the  doctor 
did  not  wish  any  disturbance — I  was  told 
he  went  home  looking  terribly  sad  and 
dejected." 

My  sister's  expression  of  confidence  in 
this  man  sounded  like  irony  to  me. 

"  Yes,"  I  replied,  "  he  may  have  been 
dejected,  but  there  is  another  cause  for  it 
besides  my  illness.  Sister,  we  have  been 
sadly  deceived.  He  is  not  an  honest  man, 
and  now  he  has  been  found  out.  That  is 
why  he  appeared  dejected." 

Again  my  eyes  overflowed  with  tears, 
burning  tears  of  anger.  My  sister  became 
anxious. 

"  I  do  not  understand  what  you  mean, 
child.  Did  he  tell  you  anything  yesterday  ? 
Now  do  not  weep,  it  will  excite  you,  and 
you  may  get  ill  again.  Try  to  be  calm  and 
tell  me  what  has  happened." 

I  then  controlled  myself  and  as  calmly 
as  I  could  I  told  my  sister  all  I  had  heard 


62 

while  standing  near  the  door.  It  made, 
however,  no  deep  impression  on  her ;  she 
acted  like  one  from  whom  a  great  anxiety 
had  been  suddenly  removed,  and  with  a 
sigh  of  relief  she  replied, 

"  Oh,  is  that  all  ?  I  have  been  so  nervous. 
I  cannot  describe  to  you  the  state  of  my 
anxiety." 

This  was  more  than  I  had  expected  of 
my  sister.  She  surprised  me  disagreeably, 
and  my  reply  was  quick  and  fretful. 

"  What  do  you  mean,  sister  ?  Are  you 
taking  this  matter  lightly  ?  The  man  is 
engaged  to  be  married  to  one  and  proposes 
marriage  to  another — is  not  this  serious 
enough  ?  " 

My  sister  was  not  convinced.  "  You 
are  taking  entirely  too  serious  a  view  of 
the  matter,"  she  said.  "  As  for  me  I  do 
not  doubt  in  the  least  that  he  loves  you. 
Don't  worry  yourself  about  that  affair  in 
England.  Supposing  there  really  was  some 
talk  of  marriage  between  him  and  some 
one  else,  what  is  the  use  of  fretting  about 
it  ?  He  is  not  married,  and  you  know 
very  well  that  engagements  are  broken 
every  day.  Not  long  ago  the  marriage 
of  my  husband's  cousin  was  broken 


63 

off  even  after  the  betrothal  ceremony  had 
been  performed.  Then  think  of  marriage 
between  a  Bengali  and  an  English  girl. 
Just  realise  the  difference  in  their  habits  and 
customs.  Two  people  may  become  infatu- 
ated and  yield  to  their  emotions  on  the 
impulse  of  the  moment,  but  they  certainly 
learn  to  regret  their  folly  when  they  come 
to  reason  about  the  matter.  If  the  object 
of  marriage  is  the  promotion  of  mutual 
happiness,  then  such  a  marriage  as  this 
would  be  a  decided  failure.  Under  such 
circumstances  I  consider  it  far  wiser  to  break 
off  an  engagement  than  to  yield  to  a  foolish 
and  mistaken  sentiment.  And  remember 
the  happiness  of  .the  girl  in  question  was 
involved  as  well  as  his,  and  should  he 
sacrifice  her  life  ?  " 

I  had  not  the  patience  to  listen  further. 

"  Are  you  quite  certain,"  I  interrupted, 
"  that  he  did  it  out  of  solicitude  for  the 
girl  ?  Do  you  not  understand  that  she  has 
given  up  everything  for  this  man,  that  she 
trusts  him,  and  is  waiting  to  hear  from 
him  ?  In  the  meantime  he  deliberately 
breaks  his  troth  and  seeks  the  hand  of 
another.  Is  this  worthy  of  the  dignity 
of  manhood  ?  I  am  really  at  a  loss  to 


64         AN   UNFINISHED   SONG 

understand  how  you  can  take  such  a  calm 
view  of  the  matter  ?  " 

"  Let  me  explain  to  you  my  reason  for 
this,"  was  my  sister's  calm  reply.  "  You 
know  that  English  girls  are  notorious  for 
priding  themselves  on  being  able  to  capti- 
vate the  affections  of  men,  and  I  really 
think  the  poor  fellow  fell  a  victim  to  one 
of  them.  We  should  pity  him  rather  than 
condemn.  I  am  quite  certain  if  we  question 
him  about  it,  we  shall  get  a  satisfactory 
reply." 

"  Do  you  expect  me  to  refer  to  the  matter 
when  I  see  him  ?  " 

"  You  will  not  have  to,  he  will  do  it 
himself.  If  not,  your  brother-in-law  and 
I  will  speak  to  him.  It  is  but  natural,  since 
you  are  engaged  to  be  married  to  him,  that 
we  should  ask  him  for  an  explanation." 

"  The  marriage  has  not  been  settled 
yet,"  I  rejoined,  "  and  I  have  no  desire 
for  it  either." 

My  sister  looked  amazed  and  exclaimed, 
"  Have  you  gone  mad  ?  You  wish  to  break 
off  the  engagement  for  so  slight  a  cause  ? 
Now  don't  get  any  foolish  notions  into 
your  head.  Don't  you  understand  that 
you  will  be  disgraced  in  Society  if  you  do 


AN   UNFINISHED   SONG         65 

so  ?  He  is  a  man,  to  him  a  broken  engage- 
ment does  not  mean  much,  but  when  I 
think  of  your  fate,  I  grow  very  nervous. 
There  will  be  so  much  gossip  about  you, 
I  don't  think  we  shall  be  able  to  marry 
you  at  all." 

"  What  if  I  remain  unmarried  ?  I  am 
not  very  anxious  for  wedlock." 

"  Now  in  the  name  of  justice,"  my  sister 
urged,  "  let  me  appeal  to  you  not  to  take 
any  foolish  step.  If  you  wilfully  refuse 
to  marry  this  man,  will  you  not  commit 
the  very  wrong  of  which  you  are  accusing 
him  ?  Will  you  not  ruin  the  life  of  one 
who  loves  you,  and  that  for  a  fancied 
reason  ?  " 

"  Fancied  reason  !  "  I  reiterated  her  words. 

"  Certainly,  for  I  feel  convinced  if  we  once 
hear  the  facts  of  the  matter  explained  by 
his  own  lips,  we  shall  find  that  he  was  not 
so  much  at  fault.  At  least  wait  until  you 
hear  what  he  has  to  say  and  then  give  him 
your  final  answer.  Even  a  criminal  is  not 
convicted  without  a  trial,  and  you  are  ready 
to  pronounce  judgment  upon  the  man  who 
loves  you  without  giving  him  a  chance  to 
say  a  word  in  his  defence.  I  am  afraid  you 
are  hard-hearted." 


66         AN   UNFINISHED   SONG 

I  was  silenced.  I  saw  it  was  useless  to 
try  and  make  her  understand  what  I  felt. 
She  looked  upon  it  from  a  worldly  point 
of  view.  In  her  matter-of-fact  way  she 
argued  that  similar  occurrences  take  place 
daily  in  life,  that  a  man  is  not  perfect  but 
liable  to  the  failings  of  humanity  in  general. 
If  woman  raises  her  ideal  of  him  too  high 
she  must  be  disillusioned,  and  as  long  as 
he  has  not  committed  any  extraordinary 
offence  there  can  be  no  reason  for  con- 
demning him.  But  my  midsummer  night's 
dream  had  vanished,  and  vanished  for  ever. 
I  no  longer  saw  with  the  eyes  of  Titania, 
to  whom  the  most  ungainly  object  appeared 
beautiful.  The  bandage  had  dropped  from 
my  eyes,  and  I  did  not  even  once  attempt 
to  soothe  my  wounded  heart  with  the 
thought  that  he  must  be  mine  whatever  he 
might  have  done.  I  was  perfectly  willing  to 
pardon  him  as  a  man,  but  he  could  no  longer 
take  the  place  of  lover  with  me.  That  place 
must  be  filled  by  one  inspired  by  loftier 
motives.  Whatever  might  be  the  short- 
comings of  men  in  general,  he  whom  I  was 
to  call  husband  must  be  above  all  that  is 
small  and  unworthy  in  a  man.  This  might 
appear  like  a  fanciful  illusion  to  a  maturer 


AN   UNFINISHED   SONG         67 

mind,  but  the  ideal  being  unblemished  carried 
all  the  force  of  reality  in  my  inexperienced 
heart.  Nor  was  I  satisfied  to  have  my 
husband's  love  for  one  life  only,  I  must 
feel  in  my  own  consciousness  that  he  had 
been  mine  in  lives  of  the  past  and  would 
be  mine  again  in  lives  to  come.  That  at 
any  time  his  life  should  not  have  been 
entirely  mine,  that  his  affections  should  ever 
have  belonged  to  another — I  could  not 
tolerate  the  idea.  In  this  respect  I  expected 
of  man  what  man  expects  of  woman.  As  a 
man  wants  undivided  devotion  from  the 
woman  he  marries,  as  she  is  not  allowed 
ever  to  give  a  thought  to  any  man  but  him, 
so  did  I  want  my  husband's  whole  existence 
to  be  mine. 

I  do  not  know  whether  anyone  sym- 
pathises with  me,  whether  I  can  make 
anyone  understand  what  I  felt.  I  might 
pardon  him,  I  might  even  marry  him  if 
need  be,  but  he  could  never  now  reach  up 
to  my  ideal.  Time  was  when  I  thought 
he  could  be  enshrined  in  my  soul  as  all  I 
had  dreamed  of  in  man,  but  I  saw  now  that 
I  had  been  mistaken.  Now  that  the  en- 
chantment was  over,  he  had  become  to  me 
a  mutilated  idol,  which  could  no  longer 


68         AN   UNFINISHED   SONG 

enter  the  sanctuary  of  my  being  ;  my  whole 
life  seemed  wrecked.  Perhaps  there  is  in 
the  world  another  who  harbours  such  sen- 
timent as  mine,  but  I  knew  of  none,  hence 
I  remained  silent. 


CHAPTER  VI 


CHAPTER   VI 

IT  turned  out  as  my  sister  had  foretold. 
He  came  and  himself  spoke  of  what  had 
happened. 

"  You  heard  what  the  doctor  told  me,  did 
you  not,  Moni  ? ':  For  the  first  time  he 
addressed  me  in  the  familiar  way.  Perhaps 
he  felt  it  would  be  improper  to  address  me 
with  the  respectful  pronoun  after  his  offer 
of  marriage  yesterday,  or  perhaps  he  con- 
sidered it  his  lawful  right  to  do  so. 

I  replied  by  a  nod. 

He  continued,  "  I  am  afraid  you  think  I 
have  done  something  very  scandalous. 
I  am  very  sorry,  but  the  truth  is  there  was 
nothing  serious — it  was  only  a  flirtation,  and 
that  is  a  matter  of  everyday  occurrence  in 
England." 

I  felt  indignant  but  suppressed  my  feeling 
and  replied  calmly, 

"  But  from  what  I  heard  the  doctor  say  it 
seems  to  have  been  exactly  the  reverse." 

"  Oh,  that  meddlesome  fellow,  he  is 
71 


72         AN   UNFINISHED   SONG 

an  out-and-out  hypocrite.  Anything  about 
other  people,  and  he  makes  a  mountain  out 
of  a  molehill." 

I  could  conceal  my  indignation  no  longer. 

"  If  a  man  is  a  hypocrite  because  he  cham- 
pions the  cause  of  a  helpless,  forsaken  girl, 
then  what  name  is  to  be  applied  to  one  who 
betrays  the  girl  who  trusted  him  ?  Is  he 
to  be  styled  a  man  of  honour  ?  >: 

I  felt  my  words  to  be  very  trenchant, 
and  I  regretted  them  when  I  saw  the  effect 
they  had  upon  him.  He  kept  silent  for  a 
while.  When  he  spoke  again  it  was  with 
firmness. 

"  I  have  not  betrayed  her.  On  the 
contrary  I  should  have  done  so  if  I  had 
married  her.  I  could  never  have  loved 
her." 

"  Then,  why  this  engagement  ?  " 

"  There  was  no  formal  betrothal,  but,  but 
— there  was  a  mistake.  However,  the  fault 
was  not  mine.  I  had  not  thought  it  neces- 
sary to  speak  to  you  on  this  subject,  but 
since  you  have  heard  of  it,  in  part  anyway, 
it  is  perhaps  better  I  should  tell  you  all." 

Needless  to  say  what  he  told  me  of  the 
English  girl  made  her  appear  as  one  who 
had  sinned  greatly  against  the  existing 


AN   UNFINISHED   SONG         73 

rules  of  Society.  He  spoke  in  his  own  de- 
fence. She  had  constantly  sought  him, 
had  invited  him  repeatedly  to  her  house, 
and  acted  like  one  afflicted  if  he  did  not 
go  as  often  as  she  wished.  If  she  went 
anywhere,  she  asked  him  to  accompany 
her,  and  so  forth.  It  would  have  been  un- 
gracious on  his  part  to  refuse  her  requests. 
In  this  way  he  fell  into  a  trap,  but  as  soon 
as  he  saw  that  she  wished  to  marry  him, 
he  became  less  marked  in  his  attentions 
towards  her. 

This  was  his  side  of  the  story,  but  it 
failed  to  have  the  intended  impression  upon 
me.  I  only  pitied  the  unfortunate  girl 
the  more/  nor  did  it  increase  my  respect  for 
her  accuser. 

"  But  why  did  you  allow  her  to  be  de- 
ceived ?  "  I  observed.  "  What  may  have 
been  a  mere  flirtation  to  you,  was  evidently 
to  her  the  expression  of  deep-rooted  feeling. 
Your  amusement  was  her  sorrow.  Such 
being  the  case  you  were  in  duty  bound  to 
marry  her." 

"  Do  you  hold  that  because  a  man  makes 
a  mistake  in  an  unfortunate  moment  he 
should  on  that  account  ruin  his  whole  life  ? 
If  I  had  married  her,  I  should  not  only  have 


74         AN   UNFINISHED   SONG 

made  my  own  life  miserable,  but  would 
have  dragged  others  down  with  me.  Do 
you  not  understand  that  this  marriage  would 
have  been  a  great  blow  to  my  parents  and 
relatives  ?  I  should  have  been  lost  to  my 
country  for  ever,  and  in  the  end  what  would 
she  have  gained,  for  whose  sake  all  this  sacri- 
fice would  have  been  incurred  ?  Would 
her  life  not  have  been  unhappy  as  well  ? 
Since  I  did  not  love  her,  I  could  not  have 
made  her  happy.  In  the  face  of  all  this,  do 
you  still  hold  I  should  have  married  her  ?  J: 

This  argument  seemed  true,  but  there 
was  one  point  still  unexplained.  "  Why  does 
she  still  expect  to  be  married  to  you  ?  You 
should  at  least  have  had  a  final  explanation 
with  her,  and  asked  her  to  release  you 
from  your  word." 

"  I  thought  I  had  given  sufficient  explana- 
tion, but  if  there  is  still  any  doubt  in  her 
mind,  the  news  of  my  marriage  will  make 
her  position  clear  to  her." 

How  cruel  those  last  words  sounded,  how 
extremely  repugnant  it  all  seemed  to  me. 
She  loved  him,  she  still  hoped  to  be  married 
to  him,  and  now  she  was  to  realise  the  situa- 
tion through  the  news  of  his  marriage.  Oh, 
what  agony,  what  heart-burning  would  she 


AN   UNFINISHED   SONG         75 

not  endure  !  What  claim  had  I  on  him  ? 
Had  she  not  loved  him  first,  had  he  not 
been  bound  to  her  before  he  had  seen  me  ? 
Could  I  have  the  heart  to  ruin  her  life  ? 
These  thoughts  revolved  in  my  mind  and 
excited  my  nerves,  and  my  feeling  was  in 
my  voice  when  I  spoke. 

"  I  do  not  know  whether  you  have  acted 
rightly  or  otherwise.  It  is  not  for  me  to 
judge  you,  the  great  God  will  do  that.  But 
let  me  assure  you  I  will  not  place  myself 
as  a  barrier  in  the  way  of  the  girl  who  loves 
you." 

My  words  seemed  to  startle  him,  he  stood 
like  one  struck  dumb,  he  had  evidently  not 
expected  this  reply.  It  took  him  some  time 
to  master  his  agitation.  I  saw  he  struggled 
to  suppress  his  anger  as  he  spoke. 

"  You  charge  me  with  having  practised 
deception.  However  that  may  be,  I  have 
certainly  not  deceived  you.  But  you  have 
deceived  me,  you  have  played  with  me,  you 
never  loved  me,  and  yet  you  did  everything 
to  make  me  think  so.  If  you  had  ever 
truly  cared  for  me,  you  would  not  now  wish 
to  break  off  with  me  for  so  trivial  a  reason. 
You  would  rather  pity  me  in  my  misery. 
Oh,  my  Godj  must  I  live  to  bear  this  ?  " 


76         AN   UNFINISHED   SONG 

Then  we  remained  silent,  both  he  and  I. 
The  minutes  wore  by,  but  neither  spoke. 
My  sister  came  to  our  rescue.  She  entered 
the  room  and  greeted  Mr.  Roy,  which 
greeting  having  been  returned  he  said, 

"  I  have  to  go  to  the  interior  this  evening 
in  connection  with  a  case.  I  may  have  to 
remain  there  for  more  than  a  week.  I  hope  I 
shall  hear  from  you." 

He  then  rose  and  held  out  his  hand  to  bid 
me  farewell.  Once  more  he  spoke  to  me, 
his  voice  was  low  and  sad,  it  was  almost 
pitiable  to  hear  him. 

"  I  have  no  more  to  say.  My  life,  my 
death,  are  both  in  your  hands.  Consider 
this  before  you  act  further." 

With  these  words  he  left  the  room. 


CHAPTER   VII 


CHAPTER  VII 

MY  sister's  conviction  that  I  would  be 
reconciled  after  hearing  his  version  of  the 
story  had  thus  proved  untrue ;  the  reverse 
was  the  case.  The  manner  in  which  he 
spoke  in  extenuation  of  his  guilt  had  only 
increased  my  disrespect  for  him.  The  mere 
fact  that  he  had  tried  to  explain  away  the 
whole  incident  as  a  mere  flirtation  caused 
feelings  of  the  deepest  resentment  in  my 
heart,  and  when  he  began  to  say  unkind 
things  about  the  doctor  in  order  to  dis- 
abuse himself,  I  considered  him  more 
unworthy  than  ever.  When  in  the  end  he 
went  so  far  as  to  assert  that  I  had  deceived 
him,  that  if  I  loved  him  I  would  gladly 
overlook  so  trivial  a  matter,  his  utterances 
had  reached  their  climax,  he  was  then  adding 
insult  to  injury.  Was  it  then  my  fault  that 
he  was  not  as  good  as  he  made  himself  out 
to  be  ?  My  resentment  now  grew  into  anger. 
Nevertheless,  strong  as  was  my  feeling 
against  him,  there  was  still  hope,  for  his 
final  piteous  appeal  had  not  failed  to  leave 

79 


8o         AN   UNFINISHED    SONG 

its  impression.  A  woman  may  be  cruel  in 
a  moment  when  anger  controls  her,  but  she 
cannot  resist  the  pleading  of  love,  that  melts 
her  heart  when  nothing  else  will.  This  is 
the  essential  difference  between  woman 
and  man,  it  is  here  thac  the  Creator  has 
marked  her  as  being  distinctly  different 
from  his  stronger  creature.  His  distressed 
mien,  his  passionate  exhortations,  these 
had  spoken  to  me  of  a  deep  love,  and  the 
thought  of  that  went  to  my  heart ;  I  felt 
the  pang  of  his  disappointment  as  keenly 
as  he  felt  it  himself.  Now  that  he  was 
gone  I  reflected  on  the  whole  painful  scene 
with  the  deepest  emotion ;  I  began  to 
doubt  my  own  self.  The  very  words  that 
had  before  excited  my  anger  began  now 
to  move  me  to  pity.  Was  it  then  true  after 
all  ?  Had  I  deceived  him  ?  Had  I  made  him 
think  I  loved  him  when  in  reality  I  did  not  ? 
Had  I  taken  his  future  into  my  hands, 
meting  out  to  him  either  happiness  or  misery 
as  it  pleased  me  best  ? 

I  now  became  overpowered  by  remorse, 
I  felt  the  deepest  pity  for  him.  My  mind 
became  filled  with  gloom  and  I  sat  speech- 
less, motionless,  brooding  over  the  things 
I  had  heard  or  said.  My  sister  came  and 


AN   UNFINISHED    SONG         81 

looked  at  me  with  anxious  gaze,  she  wanted 
to  question  me.  Just  then  the  servant 
announced  the  doctor's  arrival.  This  diverted 
me.  I  felt  myself  becoming  calm,  and  when 
he  entered  the  room  I  felt  happy. 

After  the  usual  greeting  he  apologised 
for  not  having  been  able  to  come  earlier, 
and  then  inquired  after  the  state  of  my 
health.  My  sister  explained  to  him  that  I 
had  slept  well  during  the  night,  and  that 
she  considered  me  much  better.  She  did 
not  think  I  needed  any  more  medicine. 

The  sun  was  penetrating  through  the 
western  window,  and  shone  upon  the  sofa  on 
which  I  sat.  He  closed  the  window,  sat 
down  on  a  chair  beside  me  and  felt  my 
pulse.  Then  addressing  my  sister,  he  said, 

"  She  is  not  quite  well  yet,  her  pulse  is 
still  weak.  Do  not  stop  the  tonic." 

I  did  not  like  the  tonic,  it  tasted  bitter, 
and  I  did  not  waste  a  minute  in  expressing 
myself  on  the  subject.  I  declared  pettishly 
the  tonic  must  be  stopped,  it  did  not  suit 
my  palate. 

My  brother-in-law,  who  had  just  entered 
the  room,  heard  my  declaration. 

"  Up  in  arms  again  ?  "  he  laughed.  "  With 
whom  are  you  quarrelling  now,  with  the 


82         AN   UNFINISHED   SONG 

doctor  or  with  the  medicine  ?  "  I  became 
embarrassed,  but  was  still  fretful. 

"  If  you  will  only  taste  this  mixture  once, 
you  will  understand  my  feeling,"  I  retorted. 

"  If  that  will  remove  your  petulance,  I 
will  gladly  empty  the  whole  phial,1'  he  re- 
plied, still  laughing.  "  I  say,  doctor,"  he 
continued,  "  will  any  one  still  question  the 
intellectual  inferiority  of  woman  in  the  face 
of  proofs  like  this  ?  5 

"  We  do  not  understand  you,"  said  my 
sister.  "  Please  explain  yourself." 

"  Women  will  play  the  coquette  with 
fate  itself  when  they  have  no  one  else  to 
play  with.  They  seem  to  think  they  can 
melt  its  iron,  inflexible  force  with  mere 
appealing  glances  from  pretty  eyes  while 
men  will  boldly  undertake  to  fight  fate." 

"  But  if  fate  is  so  inflexible  how  can  you 
reckon  them  wise  who  undertake  to  fight  it  ? " 

"  Well  said.  I  quite  agree  with  you," 
exclaimed  the  doctor. 

"  So  you  are  taking  their  side.  Well,  I 
can't  stay  here  any  longer.  I  must  go  down- 
stairs, I  have  a  client  waiting  for  me.  See 
you  as  you  go."  And  my  brother-in-law 
departed. 

The  doctor  turned  to  me  with  the  con- 


AN   UNFINISHED   SONG         83 

soling  offer  to  give  me  a  more  palatable 
tonic  if  the  present  one  was  too  bitter. 

It  was  the  expression  of  true  sympathy, 
it  touched  my  heart,  and  I  know  I  expressed 
my  feeling  in  my  eyes  as  I  looked  at  him. 

What  a  little  thing  a  kind  word  is,  and  yet 
the  miracles  that  it  can  work.  If  men 
would  realise  what  a  heaven  they  might 
create  for  themselves  by  regarding  the 
little  things  that  women  cherish  let  them 
learn  to  heed  her  wishes  in  all  small  matters  ! 
A  woman  can  forgive  almost  anything  for  a 
word  of  sympathy,  but  withhold  that,  and 
there  is  no  telling  what  he  may  prepare  for 
himself,  from  coldness  to  estrangement,  and 
finally  a  life  of  misery ;  this  is  the  result, 
the  daily  result,  of  lives  in  which  woman's 
nature  is  not  understood. 

In  a  corner  of  the  room  was  a  table  with 
writing  material.  The  doctor  wrote  out  a 
new  prescription  there,  and  handed  it  to  my 
sister,  remarking  as  he  did  so,  "  I  suppose 
there  is  no  further  necessity  for  my  coming  ? " 

"  She  seems  to  be  quite  well,"  my  sister 
replied  ;  "  if  she  has  no  relapse  I  think  she 
will  be  able  to  get  on  by  herself  now." 

I  did  not  like  my  sister's  reply.  She 
might,  it  seemed  to  me,  as  a  matter  of  cour- 


84         AN   UNFINISHED   SONG 

tesy,  have  asked  him  to  call  occasionally. 
I  felt  annoyed  with  her,  but  tried  not  to  let 
her  notice  it.  The  doctor  started  to  leave  the 
room,  but  before  doing  so,  brought  a  small 
table  on  which  stood  a  flower  vase  contain- 
ing a  bouquet  of  sweet-scented  flowers  and 
placed  it  near  the  couch  on  which  I  rested. 

"  The  fragrance  of  flowers  is  good  for  the 
nervous  system,"  he  said,  and  bidding  me 
good-bye,  left  the  room. 

How  strange  it  was  these  flowers  brought 
back  the  memory  of  my  childhood,  and  once 
more  I  saw  that  school-room  and  its  sunny 
hours  which  cast  ever  anew  a  halo  over  the 
memory  of  early  days.  I  remembered  how 
fond  Chotu  had  been  of  the  flowers  I  had 
brought  him,  how  carefully  he  had  arranged 
them  in  a  broken  drinking  glass,  and  placed 
them  on  a  table  near  his  seat ;  how  I  used 
to  bend  over  from  my  seat  to  inhale  their 
fragrance  and  in  my  childish  way  exclaim, 
"  How  very  sweet  these  flowers  are.  How 
is  it  that  the  flowers  at  home  are  not  half  so 
sweet  ?  " 

How  Chotu  used  to  smile  at  me  then  and 
look  so  proud  and  happy.  To-day  it  seemed 
as  if  it  were  Chotu  who  placed  these  flowers 
beside  me.  I  forgot  myself  in  the  thought 


AN   UNFINISHED   SONG         85 

of  the  past,  and  was  about  to  ask  the  ques- 
tion, "  Are  you  Chotu  ?  "  but  the  illusion 
vanished  as  quickly  as  it  came,  and  ere  I 
could  speak  he  had  crossed  the  room.  A 
new  realisation  took  hold  of  me.  Was  I 
going  to  love  this  man  ?  I  compared  the 
weird  fascination  that  Mr.  Roy's  song  had 
had  upon  me  with  the  feeling  that  now 
entered  my  heart,  but  I  dared  not  yield. 
How  could  I  be  so  capricious,  so  base  indeed, 
as  to  forsake  the  man  whom  only  a  few  days 
ago  I  had  loved  ?  Could  I  forget  him  who 
had  vowed  to  me  fidelity  unto  death  for  one 
whom  I  had  never  seen  before,  one  who  had 
come  into  my  life  only  yesterday  ?  Was  it 
then  true  after  all  that  I  had  never  loved 
him,  that  I  was  deceiving  him  ?  If  I  had 
truly  cared  for  him  this  incident  in  his  life 
would  have  filled  me  with  sorrow,  with 
wounded  pride,  perhaps,  but  certainly  never 
with  anger,  much  less  with  the  thought  of 
forsaking  him. 

Yes,  I  had  been  wrong.  I  now  thought 
I  saw  the  truth  clearly.  I  saw  my  fault,  and 
my  heart  was  filled  with  penitence.  If 
I  had  been  annoyed  a  while  ago  because  my 
sister  did  not  invite  the  doctor  to  come  to  the 
house  again,  I  now  was  pleased  because  she 


86         AN   UNFINISHED   SONG 

had  not  done  so.  The  man  who  had  told 
me  he  loved  me  was  to  be  my  husband,  and 
none  other.  I  had  wronged  him  greatly, 
but  I  would  not  deceive  him.  I  would  ex- 
plain to  him  all  that  was  in  my  heart,  and 
if  he  wanted  to  marry  me  still  I  would  be 
his.  There  would  of  course  be  no  question 
on  that  point.  He  loved  me  with  unswerving 
devotion  ;  he  had  himself  said  so.  However 
unworthy  I  might  be,  he  was  too  great,  too 
noble  to  change  ;  he  would,  indeed,  save  me 
from  the  great  error  I  had  been  about  to 
commit. 

Therefore,  when  my  sister  enquired  about 
the  conversation  we  had  had  together,  I 
replied  that  I  was  firm  in  my  determination 
to  marry  him. 

"  I  have  understood,"  I  continued,  "  that 
he  has  done  no  wrong  in  not  marrying  her." 

"  Do  you  also  understand  how  deeply  he 
loves  you  ? J! 

"  Yes,  I  understand  it  all  now." 

"  Then  you  will  have  no  further  objec- 
tions ?  " 

"  None." 

My  sister  was  greatly  pleased  with  my 
reply  and  consoled  herself  with  the  thought 
that  he  would  be  back  again  in  a  week. 


CHAPTER  VIII 


CHAPTER  VIII 

I  RECEIVED  a  letter  in  due  time,  a  letter 
that  breathed  love  and  humility.  It  melted 
my  heart  and  made  me  still  more  repentant. 
Needless  to  say  the  letter  was  written  in 
English.  That  the  love  letters  of  a  Bengali 
youth,  whose  whole  life  is  one  great  imita- 
tion, should  be  written  in  his  native 
tongue, — this  preposterous  idea  would  not 
occur  to  any  one. 

Of  course,  I  began  to  write  the  reply  in 
English.  I  was  reputed  to  be  well  grounded 
in  that  language.  I  had  received  my  educa- 
tion at  one  of  the  best  English  schools  in 
Calcutta.  My  correspondence  was  con- 
ducted almost  entirely  in  English  ;  the  letter 
to  my  father  and  to  my  aunt  were  the  only 
ones  written  in  Bengali.  I  seldom  even 
spoke  in  my  mother  tongue  with  my  girl 
friends,  and  as  to  the  English  poems  and 
novels  that  I  had  read,  their  number  was 
legion.  To  tell  the  truth  I  was  a  little  vain 
of  the  command  I  had  acquired  over  the 

89 


90         AN   UNFINISHED   SONG 

English  language,  yet,  however  hard  I  might 
try,  I  could  not  make  this  letter  a  success. 
It  was  the  first  time  in  my  life  that  I  had 
attempted  a  letter  of  the  kind.  I  positively 
found  myself  perspiring  under  the  strain  of 
this  enormous  task,  and  became  terribly 
confused  in  the  selection  of  synonyms  and 
floundered  about  among  adjectives  and  pre- 
positions until  I  was  half  mad.  I  could  not 
count  the  letters  I  wrote  and  destroyed 
immediately  after.  If  the  sentiment  was 
fairly  well  expressed  the  language  was  not 
to  my  liking,  and  vice-versa,  when  the  lan- 
guage was  well  chosen,  the  sentiment  was 
not  expressed  as  it  should  have  been.  Once 
or  twice  it  really  seemed  as  if  language  and 
sentiment  agreed,  but  then  it  occurred  to 
me  that  the  thing  read  something  like  a 
novel,  and  I  discarded  it  again.  I  became 
so  morbid  that  a  simple  "  in  "  or  "  to  " 
upset  me,  and  soon  the  poor  letter  lay  again 
in  shreds  on  the  floor.  Now  could  any  one 
under  the  sun  finish  a  letter  at  this  rate  ? 
For  the  first  time  in  my  life  I  perceived  the 
dignity  and  beauty  of  my  mother  tongue. 

I  had  studied  Bengali  until  my  eleventh 
or  twelfth  year.  Then  I  went  to  a  girls' 
school,  conducted  by  Catholic  sisters  who 


AN   UNFINISHED   SONG         91 

followed  the  Western  system  of  education. 
So  my  knowledge  of  my  native  tongue  had 
to  a  great  extent  been  acquired  by  conversa- 
tion. I  had  indeed  read  some  poems  and 
novels  in  Bengali,  but  of  the  higher  classics 
written  in  this  beautiful  language  I  knew 
nothing.  Nevertheless  if  I  had  had  the 
good  sense  to  write  this  letter  in  Bengali  I 
should  not  have  had  to  tax  my  brail  so 
much  about  grammar  a  ad  syntax.  Strange 
as  it  may  seem,  we  Bengalis  do  not  mind  an 
incorrect  expression  in  our  own  language, 
but  the  slightest  mistake  in  English  causes 
us  the  greatest  embarrassment.  There  is 
a  saying  that  God  is  remembered  only 
through  difficulties.  I  realised  this  truth 
when  I  wrote  that  English  letter.  If  we 
would  bestow  half  the  care  on  our  own  lan- 
guage that  we  do  on  an  alien  tongue  we 
might  carry  its  literary  merit  to  the  highest 
perfection. 

Perhaps  it  was  not  the  language  alone 
that  was  at  fault.  There  was  that  in  my 
mental  condition  that  was  not  conducive 
to  calmness  ;  when  we  have  really  nothing 
to  say  we  can  speak  volumes,  but  when  it 
comes  to  a  matter  in  which  our  heart  is 
involved,  particularly  when  the  affair  is  a 


92         AN   UNFINISHED   SONG 

complicated  one,  it  is  often  difficult  to  find 
words  to  express  our  feelings.  I  wonder  to 
this  day  when  I  think  over  the  strange  fate 
of  this  oft  written  and  as  often  destroyed 
letter,  whether  it  would  have  reached  its 
destination  if  it  had  been  written  in  Bengali 
instead  of  English.  Who  knows  ? 

The  week  that  marked  his  absence  was 
approaching  its  end,  the  day  was  near  when 
he  would  return — and  not  a  solitary  letter 
had  I  written,  although  I  had  wasted  a 
quire  of  paper  in  the  attempt.  I  had  at  last 
abandoned  my  forlorn  hope,  consoling  myself 
with  the  thought  that  I  should  soon  see  him 
again  and  that  after  all  letters  were  a  mere 
superfluity.  It  would  be  much  better  for 
me  to  tell  him  what  I  felt,  I  could  never 
express  all  my  feelings  on  paper.  He  would, 
of  course,  gladly  forgive  me  when  he  heard 
of  the  tragic  fate  of  the  many  letters  I  had 
written  through  the  week,  and  so  I  rested 
at  ease. 

The  week  of  his  absence  lengthened  into 
a  fortnight,  and  there  was  no  news  of  his 
return. 

But  there  was  gossip,  my  sister  heard  of 
that  at  a  dinner-party  one  evening.  I  saw 
her  the  next  morning  looking  worried,  and 


AN   UNFINISHED   SONG         93 

she  asked  me  rather  abruptly  whether  I 
had  received  any  letter  from  him.  I  feared 
she  would  reprove  me  if  she  found  I  had  not 
written.  I  therefore  tried  to  evade  her 
question. 

"  Did  you  have  any  music  last  evening  ?  " 

"  No,"  she  replied,  "  there  was  no  good 
singer,  Kusum  and  her  people  are  still  at 
Mymensing.  Chanchal  was  there,  she  sang, 
but  not  well.  I  too  made  an  attempt,  but 
I  was  so  worried  I  could  not  sing  either." 

"  Why  should  you  be  worried  at  a  dinner- 
party ?  " 

"  Do  you  know  what  the  gossip  is  ? 
People  say  that  the  engagement  between 
you  and  Romanath  has  fallen  through,  and 
that  he  is  to  be  married  to  Kusum.  He 
is  said  to  be  stopping  with  them  at  Mymen- 
sing." 

"  Don't  be  depressed  over  a  mere  report," 
I  said.  "  People  have  nothing  better  to 
do  and  so  they  gossip.  Valmiki  had  finished 
the  Ramayana  before  ever  Ram  was  born. 
People  have  not  all  the  genius  of  a  Valmiki 
to  write  of  great  deeds,  so  they  prattle  about 
other  people's  affairs  and  tell  stories  which 
are  seldom  true." 

"  The  report  does  not  seem  to  be  mere 


94        AN   UNFINISHED   SONG 

gossip.  I  heard  it  from  Chanchal's  mother. 
She  told  me  Kusum  is  to  receive  fifty 
thousand  rupees  as  a  dowry." 

Chanchal's  mother  was  Kusum's  aunt, 
and  the  two  sisters-in-law  were  not  on 
friendly  terms.  They  could  not  see  each 
other's  better  qualities,  and  each  found  a 
considerable  amount  of  satisfaction  in  finding 
fault  with  the  other.  This  fact  being  known 
to  me,  I  doubted  the  story. 

"  If  she  said  it,  you  may  rest  assured 
there  is  not  much  truth  in  it." 

"  But  I  hear  Romanath  returned  to  town 
the  day  before  yesterday.  Why  then  has 
he  not  yet  come  to  the  house  ?  If  all  were 
well,  why  should  he  act  as  he  does  ? >: 

I  had  even  then  full  faith  in  him  ;  even 
then  his  last  piteous  appeal  rang  in  my 
ears  ;  I  recalled  the  tender  touch  of  his  hand 
and  the  affectionate  tone  of  his  letter.  My 
faith  was  not  to  be  shaken  by  gossip  or  a 
day's  delay  on  his  part  to  come  and  see 
me.  I  spoke  to  my  sister  with  gentle 
reproach. 

"  Didi,  I  am  surprised  at  you.  If  he 
could  not  come  yesterday  he  may  come 
to-day.  Why  do  you  worry  so  much  ? 
Only  a  few  days  ago  you  had  such  deep  faith 


AN   UNFINISHED   SONG         95 

in  him,  and  now  you  have  lost  it  all  through 
mere  gossip.  If  his  love  is  genuine  this 
report  cannot  be  true,  and  if  it  is  not,  then 
we  have  been  saved  from  a  dishonest  man. 
I  really  do  not  see  why  we  should  grieve." 
My  sister  said  no  more.  But  I  received 
that  moment  as  much  comfort  from  my 
faith  in  his  love  as  the  devotee  does  from 
his  faith  in  love  Divine.  It  is  an  invaluable 
treasure,  this  faith.  It  awakens  the  heart 
to  a  greater  bliss.  It  is  because  of  the 
absence  of  faith  that  love  is  not  always 
lasting,  and  often  leaves  the  heart  dis- 
consolate. 


CHAPTER  IX 


CHAPTER   IX 

MY  sister  felt  the  effect  of  having  retired 
late  on  the  previous  night,  she  therefore  lay 
down  to  rest  during  the  day.  I  was  left 
alone  and  seated  myself  on  an  easy  chair 
by  the  window,  with  a  novel  in  my  hand, 
but  I  could  not  fix  my  mind  on  my  book ; 
one's  taste  is  subject  to  change.  Only  a 
year  ago  I  was  so  fond  of  books  of  this  kind 
that  I  stole  time  even  from  my  studies  for 
an  occasional  hour  of  novel  reading.  It  had 
seemed  to  me  then  that  I  could  spend  my 
life  happily  with  nothing  else  to  do  but 
read  stones. 

But  now  my  book  lay  open  before  me, 
and  I  glanced  through  it  mechanically, 
grasping  of  course  not  a  word  of  it.  I  was, 
in  fact,  not  reading  at  all.  1  was  lonely  at 
heart,  yearning  for  something  not  within 
my  reach,  but  what  that  something  was  I 
could  not  myself  understand,  and  that  made 
me  the  more  lonely.  I  looked  towards  the 

99 


loo       AN   UNFINISHED   SONG 

sky  and  my  eyes  lost  themselves  in  its 
measureless  expanse.  From  it  I  turned  again 
to  my  book.  From  afar  the  clock  struck 
the  hour.  The  sky  attracted  me  again. 
Soft  clouds  appeared,  and  made  me  think  of 
the  sea,  the  restless,  never  quiet  sea,  that  I 
had  seen  only  once.  I  recalled  a  few  lines 
I  had  once  read  somewhere,  "  There  are 
places  and  times  when  the  aspect  of  the  sea 
is  dangerous,  fatal  as  is  the  gaze  of  woman." 
I  remembered  the  simile  impressed  me  as 
being  most  striking  and  beautiful.  I  had 
half  forgotten  it,  but  the  look  of  the  sky 
now  revived  its  memory.  I  knew  not  the 
book  in  which  I  had  read  it,  but  the  passage 
lived.  If  the  sea  is  dangerous,  then  it  must 
be  an  angry  look  that  compares  with  it, 
but  is  a  woman's  look  of  anger  ever  awe- 
inspiring  to  man  ?  Not  being  a  man,  I 
could  not  judge  that,  but  I  had  to  smile  at 
the  pusillanimity  of  man.  I  could  not 
imagine  such  an  angry  look,  such  exaspera- 
tion in  a  man  as  would  discompose  me.  I 
am  usually  considered  mild-natured,  the 
sight  of  the  least  suffering  in  others  moves 
me  instantly,  and  for  one  I  love  I  could 
sacrifice  all  my  desires  ;  but  could  another's 
anger  tame  me  ? 


AN   UNFINISHED    SONG       101 

If  on  the  day  of  our  last  meeting  he  had 
lost  his  temper,  had  threatened  me,  I  should 
certainly  not  have  felt  any  pity  for  him, 
nor  would  I  have  been  so  truly  desirous  of 
making  amends.  Love  is  far  stronger  in 
its  workings  than  any  other  emotion.  To 
me  it  could  never  be  the  angry  look  that 
would  prove  fatal,  but  the  appealing  glance 
that  pleads  for  pity — this  would  find  response 
in  me,  and  this  only.  His  tender  farewell 
look  came  back  into  my  mind.  No,  the 
sea  is  dangerous  also  in  her  sweeter  moods. 
As  the  unsuspecting  man  who  sleeps  on  the 
shore  thinking  himself  safe  from  the  distant 
wave  is  carried  away  softly,  stealthily  by 
the  tide,  so  is  the  heart  overpowered  by 
the  gentle  melting  glance  ;  the  man  who 
sinks  slowly  into  the  embracing  wave  does 
not  even  wish  to  escape,  and  there  lies  the 
danger. 

I  heard  footsteps  ;  this  startled  me.  I 
turned  round  and  looking  up  saw  Romanath 
standing  before  me.  He  was  not  smiling ; 
serious,  sad  and  afflicted,  he  offered  his  hand 
to  me  in  silence,  and  sat  down  on  a  chair 
beside  me.  His  coldness  chilled  me.  He 
must  feel  hurt  because  he  had  received  no 
letter  from  me,  but  how  could  I  make  an 


102       AN   UNFINISHED   SONG 

explanation  to  him  while  he  was  in  this 
mood  ?  I  tried  to  speak  but  could  not, 

He  broke  the  silence  at  last.  "  I  hope  you 
received  my  letter,  Miss  Mazumdar  ?  "  I 
noticed  the  change  in  the  mode  of  address. 
His  manner  was  distant,  his  language  formal, 
cold  and  passionless.  It  almost  froze  the 
blood  in  my  veins.  The  reply  I  gave  was 
grave,  and  spoken  in  an  unsteady  voice. 

"  Yes,  I  received  it.  I  did  not  reply 
because  you  were  to  return  so  soon." 

"  May  I  expect  a  reply  now  ?  " 

I  was  prepared  to  speak  to  him.  I  had 
so  long  rehearsed  what  I  was  going  to  say. 
I  knew  it  all  by  heart,  but  when  I  began  to 
speak,  I  found  how  difficult  it  was  to  do  so. 
I  could  remember  neither  the  beginning  nor 
the  end  of  my  prepared  speech.  It  seemed 
as  if  the  whole  thing  crowded  into  my 
brain  at  once  and  I  became  confused. 
I  faltered  a  few  indistinct  words  in  reply. 
"  I — what  am  I  to  say  ? — the  fault  was " 

"  The  same  mood  still — the  same  reply, 
'  The  fault  was  mine,'  you  say."  I  had  not 
meant  it  that  way.  I  had  meant  to  say 
the  fault  was  not  his  but  mine.  He, 
however,  gave  me  no  chance  to  say  more, 
but  simply  replied  to  my  last  words. 


AN  UNFINISHED   SONG        103 

"  Let  the  fault  be  mine,  then  ;  but  can  you 
marry  me  still  knowing  the  fault  to  be  mine  ? 
Do  not  think  I  speak  from  a  selfish  motive, 
think  of  what  you  will  suffer  if  this  engage- 
ment is  broken.  I  have  asked  you  to  marry 
me,  and  as  a  man  of  honour  I  mean  to 
keep  my  word.  Do  not  be  swayed  by  any 
considerations  for  me.  Consider  only  your- 
self while  you  decide  what  course  to  follow." 

The  counsel  sounded  unselfish  enough,  but 
my  whole  nature  revolted  when  I  heard  it. 
Had  I  condoned  his  shortcomings  only  to 
hear  this  ?  His  language  was  careful  and 
guarded,  there  was  not  a  trace  of  sentiment 
in  his  speech.  Was  the  report  about  him 
true  after  all  ?  Had  he  been  bought  over 
by  gold  ?  My  pride  asserted  itself,  and  when 
I  spoke  it  was  in  a  firm  and  clear  voice. 

"  I  am  not  calculating  how  much  I  may 
gain  by  this  transaction.  You  need  not 
trouble  yourself  on  my  account.  I  do  not 
want  to  marry  for  convenience.  Since  your 
happiness  no  longer  depends  upon  this 
marriage,  I  beg  to  be  absolved  from  any 
further  responsibility." 

His  voice  was  unsteady  as  he  replied  : — 
"Then  let  it  be  so." 


CHAPTER  X 


CHAPTER   X 

IT  was,  of  course,  necessary  for  me  to  make 
an  explanation  to  my  sister,  and  this  I  did. 
I  explained  the  situation  to  her  just  as  it 
was,  but  if  I  had  expected  sympathy,  I 
was  mistaken.  My  sister  was  displeased, 
very  displeased  ;  she  showed  it  in  her  voice 
when  she  spoke. 

"  I  can  well  understand  that  there  is 
gossip  ;  no  wonder  he  is  reported  to  be 
engaged  to  some  one  else.  You  have  brought 
it  upon  yourself,  you  alone.  And  all  this 
has  gone  on  secretly  while  I  was  thinking 
everything  was  made  up  between  you.  You 
may  have  had  some  abstract  ideas  of  recon- 
ciliation, but  how  was  the  poor  man  to 
guess  that  ?  You  told  him  plainly  you 
would  not  marry  him,  and  when  he  laid  his 
case  before  you  as  one  of  life  and  death, 
you  remained  obstinately  silent.  When  he 
wrote  to  you  tenderly  pleading,  it  did  not 
suit  you  to  send  him  a  line  in  reply.  What 
is  one  to  think  of  such  conduct  ?  Do  you 
107 


108       AN   UNFINISHED   SONG 

take  him  to  be  a  man  without  any  pride  or 
self-respect  ?  It  is  a  wonder  to  me  that  he 
ever  came  near  the  house  again.  The  mere 
fact  that  he  did  call  is  in  my  estimation 
enough  proof  of  his  honour  and  goodness." 

"  That  may  be  true,  but  the  manner  in 
which  he  solicited  my  final  decision  plainly 
proved  that  he  had  no  love  for  me." 

"  I  do  not  see  that  you  reason  correctly. 
However  deep  a  man's  love  may  be,  if  he 
sees  it  is  not  reciprocated,  he  will  certainly 
act  accordingly.  A  man's  self-respect  does 
not  permit  him  to  speak  in  familiar  terms 
to  his  fiancee  when  he  sees  she  no  longer 
desires  him." 

"  But  when  he  calmly  informed  me  to 
look  upon  the  matter  simply  in  connection 
with  the  advantage  or  disadvantage  I  might 
receive  from  it  and  put  the  question  of 
sentiment  aside  entirely,  what  would  you 
have  had  me  say  ?  Was  I  to  cast  all  better 
feelings  to  the  winds  and  complacently 
reply  :  '  It  does  not  matter  in  the  least 
whether  you  love  me  or  not,  I  will  marry 
you  because  this  marriage  will  be  my  gain'  ? " 

"  But  you  had  wronged  him,  you  had  hurt 
his  feelings.  If  you  had  acknowledged  your 
mistake  in  order  to  remove  his  uncertainty, 


AN   UNFINISHED   SONG       109 

I  do  not  really  see  how  your  self-respect 
would  have  been  hurt.  If,  as  you  think, 
he  adopted  that  indifferent  way  of  speaking 
in  order  to  extricate  himself,  even  then  you 
should  have  given  him  time  to  speak  more 
plainly.  As  the  matter  stands  he  has  been 
obliged  to  take  the  stand  he  has  on  account 
of  your  coldness.  So  far  as  I  can  see  you 
alone  are  to  blame." 

I  could  not  make  my  sister  understand  my 
action.  According  to  her  I  had  wantonly 
thrown  away  my  only  chance  of  happiness 
in  life.  The  one  object  of  a  maiden's  life 
is  matrimony  ;  she  must  be  given  to  a  desir- 
able bridegroom,  that  is  the  goal  of  her 
existence.  If  she  finds  a  worthy  man  who 
professes  to  love  and  is  willing  to  marry  her, 
she  must  consider  that  her  future  is  assured, 
she  has  all  that  can  make  life  dear.  A 
husband's  love  truly  is  sufficient  to  counter- 
balance all  the  miseries  that  life  can  bring, 
but  when  that  love  is  wanting  what  will 
constitute  a  woman's  life  ? 

My  sister  took  the  accepted  view  of  the 
matter.  Here  was  a  desirable  man  who  had 
offered  to  marry  me,  claimed  to  love  me, 
would  have  made  me  a  good  husband  ;  he 
was  handsome  and  of  good  social  standing  ; 


i  io       AN   UNFINISHED   SONG 

all  this  was  thrown  aside  by  a  foolish 
imaginary  sentiment  on  the  part  of  a  girl 
who  was  incapable  of  judging  for  herself. 
She  would  not  allow  me  to  explain  to  her 
that  he  had  cut  me  short  when  I  would  have 
come  to  an  understanding  with  him.  The 
cold,  matter-of-fact  way  in  which  my  sister 
reproached  me  touched  me  to  the  quick,  it 
made  my  heart  ache.  I  tried  to  forgive  her 
on  the  ground  that  it  was  after  all  only  her 
devotion  and  solicitude  for  me  that  made 
her  turn  so  severely  upon  me.  Affection 
expressed  in  this  way  has  seldom  a  soothing 
effect.  It  took  away  from  me  even  the 
power  to  reply,  my  voice  became  choked 
with  tears,  and  I  could  say  no  more. 

Scarcely  had  the  altercation  ceased,  than 
my  brother-in-law  appeared  with  an  open 
letter  in  his  hand.  There  was  both  surprise 
and  indignation  in  his  face,  and  dropping 
the  letter  into  my  sister's  lap  he  asked  her 
to  read  it. 

"  What  does  this  mean  ?  "  he  enquired. 

My  sister  read  the  note  and  then  handed 
it  to  me.  I  found  it  was  as  I  had  expected. 
Here  was  a  carefully  worded  letter  containing 
a  formal  proposal  to  break  off  the  engage- 
ment and  explaining  that  it  was  by  my 


AN   UNFINISHED   SONG       in 

desire  matters  had  come  to  this.  The 
writer  asked  to  be  exonerated  from  all 
blame  and  placed  himself  in  as  favourable 
a  light  as  possible. 

My  brother-in-law  took  the  matter  as 
men  usually  do,  he  expressed  his  contempt 
for  the  man  in  strong  language. 

"  He  has  broken  this  engagement  to 
marry  Miss  Mullick,"  he  said.  "  Upon  my 
honour  I  will  call  him  to  account  for  this." 

But  my  sister  calmed  him.  "  What  he 
says  is  not  untrue,"  she  explained.  "  It  is 
due  to  Moni  that  the  engagement  has  been 
broken." 

"  What !  this  engagement  has  been  broken 
by  Moni  ?  Is  it  still  on  account  of  that 
affair  in  England  ?  You  told  me  they  had 
come  to  an  understanding  on  that  point. 
What  has  taken  possession  of  her  ?  Has 
she  gone  mad  ?  ': 

"  I  thought  myself  the  difference  had 
been  settled,  but  I  now  find  that  such  was 
not  the  case." 

"  O  frailty,  thy  name  is  woman.  Why 
so  much  ado  about  nothing  ?  This  is  the 
broadmindedness  produced  by  your  educa- 
tion, the  fruit  of  liberty  !  What  is  to  be 
done  now  ?  The  thing  will  drive  me  mad." 


ii2       AN   UNFINISHED   SONG 

I  tried  hard  to  bear  up  in  silence  under 
all  that  was  said  against  me.  That  all  this 
had  happened  through  my  fault  was  true 
enough,  but  would  my  brother-in-law  as  a 
man  consider  this  fault  of  mine  unpardonable 
if  he  understood  the  circumstances  of  the 
case  ?  Would  not  the  nobler  sentiment 
appeal  to  him  ?  I  could  not  possibly  lay 
the  matter  in  detail  before  him  as  I  had 
done  before  my  sister,  nevertheless  I  picked 
up  courage  and  spoke,  although  my  voice 
was  trembling  as  I  did  so. 

"  What  alternative  had  I  ?  What  answer 
could  I  give  him  when  he  told  me  to  decide 
whether  I  would  marry  him  or  not  simply 
out  of  consideration  for  the  damage  I  might 
cause  myself  if  I  rejected  his  suit,  and 
without  any  thought  of  sentiment  ?  If  he 
had  spoken  in  a  milder  tone,  if  he  had 
allowed  any  feeling  in  the  matter,  I  should 
not  have  rejected  him." 

My  brother-in-law  frowned,  and  replied, 
"  The  whole  thing  appears  to  me  absurd. 
I  am  at  a  loss  to  understand  it.  The 
man  really  told  you  to  consider  whether 
you  might  not  cause  yourself  some  in- 
jury before  deciding  what  course  to 
take  ?  " 


AN   UNFINISHED   SONG       113 

My  sister  evidently  thought  still  further 
explanation  was  necessary. 

"  But  you  should  hear  the  true  circum- 
stances of  the  case  before  you  judge,"  she 
said.  "  He  pleaded  for  forgiveness  from 
her  in  a  very  contrite  manner  just  before 
going  away,  but  he  did  not  elicit  from  her  one 
word  of  hope.  He  wrote  to  her  during  his 
absence  entreating  her  to  take  a  reasonable 
view  of  the  matter,  but  she  would  not  reply. 
What  could  the  man  do  after  that  ?  Is  there 
not  a  limit  to  human  patience  ?  I  think  it 
would  be  better  if  you  had  a  conversation 
with  him,  asking  him  what  his  intentions 
really  are.  If  this  is  all  due  to  mere  mis- 
understanding between  them,  it  should  be 
put  right." 

The  situation  became  most  painful  to  me, 
tears  filled  my  eyes  as  I  pleaded  with  my 
sister. 

"  Sister,  I  beseech  you,  don't  let  there 
be  any  more  said  on  the  subject.  Is  this  a 
commercial  affair  that  we  should  barter 
over  it  ?  If  he  loves  me,  he  will  himself 
broach  the  subject  to  me  again.  Do  tell  your 
husband  not  to  speak  further  to  him." 

My  brother-in-law  was  walking  up  and 
down  the  room,  he  was  in  a  very  perturbed 


ii4       AN   UNFINISHED   SONG 

state  of  mind.  Before  my  sister  could  reply 
to  my  appeal  he  spoke. 

"  I  don't  know  what  is  the  right  thing  to 
do.  I  am  disgusted  with  the  whole  affair. 
Let  us  wait  and  see  whether  he  says  any 
more  himself.  On  the  other  hand  I  will 
collect  all  the  information  I  can  get  regarding 
him.  I  met  the  doctor  yesterday,  and  asked 
him  to  come  and  play  tennis  to-morrow. 
We  will  question  him  about  the  engagement 
in  England,  and  can  then  form  a  correct 
estimate  of  the  man.  In  the  meantime, 
however,  it  will  be  very  disagreeable  for  me 
to  enter  the  Bar-Library  to-morrow." 

"  What  grieves  me  most  is  the  thought 
of  father,"  was  my  sister's  anxious  remark. 

Yes,  poor  father,  I,  too,  was  thinking  of 
him,  and  there  lay  the  most  painful  part  of 
the  whole  affair. 


CHAPTER  XI 


CHAPTER   XI 

ANXIETY,  unhappiness,  gloom  on  every  side, 
my  sister  was  grave  and  silent ;  my  brother- 
in-law  was  fretful  and  vented  his  ire  on  the 
poor  servants,  who  were  terrified  like  hunted 
hares.  It  seemed  as  if  even  the  trees  and 
the  flowers,  the  very  doors  and  windows 
were  bereft  of  their  natural  appearance.  The 
whole  atmosphere  was  surcharged  with  a 
frigid  cheerlessness,  and  I  was  the  cause  of  it 
all.  The  thought  of  it  hung  over  me  like 
a  leaden  weight.  And  on  this  day  of  all 
days  my  father's  sister  came  to  visit  us, 
accompanied  by  her  daughter,  Promada. 
We  put  on  as  cheerful  faces  as  we  could,  but 
try  as  hard  as  ever  we  might  we  could 
not  wholly  conceal  the  gloom.  They  evi- 
dently noticed  it,  and  Promada  bothered  me 
with  question  after  question.  "  What  is  the 
matter  ?  What  has  happened  ?  Why  are 
you  all  so  sad  ?  Just  because  he  has  gone 
away  for  a  few  days  ?  He  will  come  back 
117 


ii8       AN   UNFINISHED   SONG 

soon  and  then  there  will  be  a  wedding. 
Can't  you  live  without  him  for  a  day  ?  " 

Times  are  not  what  once  they  were,  the 
customs  of  our  people  are  undergoing  a 
marked  change.  Time  was  when  each  sor- 
row was  carried  to  friends  or  relatives  of 
one's  own  age  and  solace  found  by  opening 
the  heart  to  its  very  depths,  but  this  is 
becoming  a  thing  of  the  past.  The  young 
woman  of  to-day  must  learn  to  bear  her 
sorrow  alone,  especially  when  an  affair  of 
the  heart  is  involved.  I  therefore  concealed 
my  feeling  before  Promada  and  laughed  her 
anxiety  down. 

The  day  wore  on,  and  the  tennis  players 
came.  A  party  of  ten  of  us  assembled  in 
the  garden.  Although  there  was  only  one 
court,  no  inconvenience  was  felt,  because  the 
number  of  the  players  was  not  a  large  one. 
My  aunt  did  not  play,  and  I  excused  myself 
on  the  ground  that  I  was  not  well.  The 
doctor  was  there,  and  when  not  playing 
came  and  sat  by  me,  speaking  to  me  in  his 
usual  gentle  way. 

"  You  still  appear  weak,"  he  said.  "  Your 
sister  tells  me  you  pay  no  attention  to  your 
health,  you  forget  your  meals  when  inter- 
ested in  your  books." 


AN   UNFINISHED   SONG        119 

"  No,"  I  assured  him,  "  I  have  almost 
given  up  my  studies." 

Promada  was  by  my  side,  and  she  took 
the  opportunity  to  observe — 

"  I  do  not  know  whether  she  has  left  off 
her  studies,  but  I  can  testify  to  it  that  she 
has  left  off  her  meals.  Doctor,  kindly  give 
her  a  tonic." 

"  Gladly  I  will  prescribe  one  this  very  day, 
but  will  she  take  it  ?  " 

While  I  was  engaged  in  conversation,  my 
eyes  were  on  the  play.  When  he  asked  this 
last  question,  however,  I  turned  my  head 
and  smiled.  He  looked  at  me  so  gently, 
so  tenderly,  my  whole  being  responded  to 
the  glance  and  the  heaviness  of  my  heart 
melted  away  in  a  happy  sigh.  The  question 
involuntarily  came  to  my  lips  : 

"  Have  you  a  herb  that  will  remove  this 
weight  upon  my  heart  ?  "  but  it  remained 
unspoken  ;  I  only  suppressed  the  tears  that 
mounted  to  my  eyes  and  drooped  my 
lashes.  I  heard  my  brother-in-law  calling 
out : 

"  I  say,  doctor,  come  on,  you  are  wanted 
to  make  up  a  new  set." 

He  did  not  heed,  but  addressing  me 
questioned  : 


120       AN   UNFINISHED   SONG 

"  Has  the  tonic  I  gave  you  done  you  any 
good  ?  How  many  days " 

"  I  say,  come  on,"  shouted  my  brother- 
in-law. 

Chanchal  came  and  said, 

"  Are  you  not  coming  ?  We  are  all  wait- 
ing for  you." 

He  started  like  one  taken  by  surprise, 
hesitated  a  moment,  and  then  replied, 
"  Am  I  really  making  you  all  wait  ?  It  is 
too  bad  of  me." 

He  joined  the  players.  Promada  re- 
marked, "  The  doctor  is  a  good  man,  is  he 
not  ?  " 

I  did  not  reply.  I  was  in  that  happy, 
melancholy,  dreamy  state  that  all  convales- 
cents know,  when  body  and  mind  alike  have 
been  wearied  by  illness  and  are  once  more 
being  invigorated  by  returning  health  and 
cheered  by  the  tender  care  of  those  who  love 
them. 


CHAPTER  XII 


CHAPTER   XII 

MY  brother-in-law  invited  the  doctor  to 
remain  to  dinner,  and  when  my  sister  and  I 
entered  the  drawing-room  after  finishing 
our  household  duties,  we  saw  the  doctor 
seated  alone  in  a  chair  before  a  table  on 
which  lay  a  book  I  had  been  reading.  When 
he  saw  us  enter  he  rose,  but  my  sister  urged 
him  to  be  seated  again. 

"  What  were  you  reading  so  attentively  ?  }: 
she  asked.  "  Middlemarch  ?  I  hope  we  are 
not  disturbing  you." 

The  doctor  resumed  his  seat  after  seeing 
us  seated.  He  smiled,  and  bending  slightly 
forward  looked  steadily  at  us.  He  was  a 
handsome  man,  his  features  were  of  a  fine 
and  intellectual  type.  His  complexion  was 
delicate,  slightly  olive-coloured,  and  a  soft 
glossy  beard  covered  his  chin  and  cheeks. 
A  pair  of  gold-rimmed  eye-glasses  fastened 
by  a  gold  chain  enhanced  his  scholarly 
appearance. 

"  Pardon  me,"  he  replied  gently,  "  when- 
123 


124       AN   UNFINISHED   SONG 

ever  I  find  one  of  George  Eliot's  novels,  I 
cannot  help  going  through  it,  it  is  a  great 
weakness  of  mine.  I  have  read  this  very 
book  several  times,  and  still  I  thought  I  was 
reading  a  new  book,  I  fancied  myself  dis- 
covering new  truths.  You  have  read  it,  no 
doubt  ?  " 

"  I  read  it  years  ago,"  replied  my  sister. 
"  It  impressed  me  as  being  a  good  book,  but 
there  are  too  many  long  conversations  in  it. 
They  oppressed  my  mind." 

"  That  is  true,"  replied  the  doctor.  "  They 
may  be  somewhat  tedious,  but  the  ideal  of 
the  author  is  grasped  by  them.  Whenever 
I  read  George  Eliot,  I  do  not  like  to  omit  a 
single  line.  Whatever  chapter,  whatever 
page  I  may  read,  I  feel  my  heart  touched 
by  a  living  sympathy.  I  am  then  aware 
of  myself  only  as  a  spark  in  an  ocean  of 
consciousness,  and  am  happy  in  drown- 
ing my  individuality  in  the  great  sea  of 


existence." 


"  I  cannot  quite  accept  your  sentiment," 
replied  my  sister,  "  the  heroine  in  Middle- 
march  married  twice.  Surely  this  is  not  a 
high  ideal  of  self-sacrifice." 

A  gentle  smile  played  round  his  lips,  and 
passed  away  quickly.  He  answered  softly, 


AN   UNFINISHED   SONG        125 

"  You  forget,  perhaps,  that  the  moralist 
and  the  novelist  are  not  the  same  person. 
The  latter  does  indeed  convey  some  moral 
lessons,  but  his  main  object  is  to  portray 
life  as  he  finds  it,  aiming  ever  at  the  ideal  for 
which  life  should  stand.  It  is  for  him  to 
place  before  the  public  the  different  phases 
of  human  nature,  the  differences  of  character 
formed  by  circumstances,  the  influences  of 
fate  or  the  rules  and  laws  of  Society,  all 
of  which  are  again  controlled  by  the  laws 
of  the  Universe.  George  Eliot,  who  under- 
stands the  mission  of  an  author,  does  not 
want  to  change  human  nature,  does  not  want 
to  create  either  gods  or  demons.  She 
only  expresses  life  as  she  finds  it,  and 
awakens  in  her  reader  love  and  sympathy. 
Dorothea  lives  in  the  ideal,  her  hopes  and 
aspirations  are  Utopian,  and  yet  what  blun- 
ders do  not  such  people  often  commit 
in  this  world  of  ours.  This  fact  the 
writer  has  made  plain  in  her  character.  Is 
there  not  a  deep  pathos  in  this  failure  of 
a  life  ?  " 

"  We  pity  her,  but  at  the  same  time  we 
must  lose  patience  with  her,  because  she 
loved  such  an  unworthy  man  in  the  end." 

"  Some  say,"  I  remarked,  "  that  Dorothea 


126       AN   UNFINISHED   SONG 

and  Maggie  are  but  portraits  of  the  author's 
own  character." 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  doctor,  "  there  is  no 
doubt  about  it.  As  she  was  disappointed 
in  her  ideals  and  crossed  in  her  highest 
hopes  and  aspirations " 

He  could  not  finish  as  my  brother-in-law 
entered. 

"  Why  are  you  so  late  ?  "  enquired  my 
sister. 

"  I  could  not  dismiss  my  client,  however 
hard  I  tried.  What  is  the  discussion  about. 
George  Eliot  ?  Oh,  she  is  a  great  woman, 
we  must  admit  that,  I  am  sorry  to 
say." 

"  That  is  a  very  reluctant  admission.  Do 
you  not  as  a  man  glory  in  such  a  genius 
in  woman  ?  She  had  a  truly  grand  intellect 
combined  with  the  sympathetic  heart  and 
subtle  instinct  of  a  true  woman.  Think  of 
the  masterly  way  in  which  she  shows  that 
every  act  of  man,  small  or  great,  springs 
from  a  deeper  motive,  a  finer  sense  of  the 
inner  nature.  Has  any  writer  of  the  stronger 
sex  been  able  to  equal  her  in  that  ?  " 

"  I  disagree  with  you,"  said  my  brother- 
in-law.  "  Do  you  mean  to  say  she  is  as 
great  as  Shakespeare,  for  instance  f  " 


AN   UNFINISHED   SONG       127 

"  Of  course,"  was  the  doctor's  warm  reply. 
"  Why  not  ?  I  have  not  the  slightest  hesi- 
tation in  pronouncing  her  as  great  in  her 
sphere  as  Shakespeare  was  in  his." 

This  seemed  to  be  too  bold  an  assertion 
for  my  brother-in-law.  He  was  half  angry 
as  he  replied,  "  What  a  monstrous  assertion  ; 
it  sounds  almost  like  blasphemy.  I  never 
heard  such  a  ridiculous  comparison.  She  is 
no  more  a  Shakespeare  than  you  are,  my 
dear  fellow,  however  cleverly  she  may  have 
written  her  novels." 

"  No,  she  is  not  a  Shakespeare,  nor  did 
I  mean  to  indicate  that  she  was.  Perhaps 
I  did  not  express  myself  clearly.  What  I 
meant  to  say  was  that  George  Eliot  is  as 
great  in  her  own  line  as  any  author  in  Eng- 
land, dead  or  alive." 

"  That  comes  to  about  the  same  thing. 
However,  prove  it  to  me  that  she  has  as  great 
a  creative  genius  as  Shakespeare." 

"  The  burden  of  the  proof  lies  with  you, 
my  friend." 

To  our  great  relief  we  heard  the  dinner 
bell  ring,  for  my  sister  and  I  had  become 
anxious  about  the  outcome  of  this  heated 
discussion.  She  therefore  remarked  smil- 
ingly, 


128       AN   UNFINISHED    SONG 

"  We  might  perhaps  adjourn  the  contro- 
versy. We  are  being  called  to  dinner." 

The  men  followed  our  example  in  rising, 
but  they  did  not  give  up  their  controversy, 
it  clung  to  them  like  an  evil  spirit. 

"  You  must  back  up  your  assertion  by 
good  reason,  my  dear  fellow,  or  admit  that 
George  Eliot  was  not  a  Shakespeare," 
continued  my  brother-in-law. 

"  That  I  will  gladly  admit,"  laughed  the 
doctor.  "  She  was  a  woman,  and  although 
she  called  herself  by  a  man's  name,  it  did 
not  necessarily  follow  that  this  made  a  man 
of  her,  whether  it  be  a  Shakespeare  or  any 
other." 

My  brother-in-law  joined  in  the  laugh 
and  said,  "  The  premises  being  granted 
the  conclusion  must  follow  as  night  follows 
day.  Since,  as  you  admit,  she  was  not  a 
Shakespeare  her  genius  could  not  be  on  a 
par  with  his  either.  Now  let  us  shake 
hands  in  the  name  of  Shakespeare,  the  cause 
of  our  heated  discussion,  which  seems,  how- 
ever, to  have  ended  satisfactorily  all  round. 
Long  live  Shakespeare,  the  great  man." 

The  doctor  shook  my  brother-in-law's 
proffered  hand  and  replied,  "  And  long 
live  George  Eliot,  the  great  woman." 


AN  UNFINISHED   SONG       129 

"  All  right,"  was  my  brother-in-law's 
cheerful  answer,  "  I  have  no  further  objec- 
tions to  make.  Long  live  Shakespeare, 
long  live  George  Eliot." 

And  they  became  hilarious  and  both 
shouted  "  Hurrah  !  " 

"Are  there  no  cheers  for  our  own  writers  ? " 
I  asked. 

"  You  are  right,"  replied  my  sister,  "  why 
should  we  forget  them  ?  Honour  to  Bankim 
Chandra  first  of  all !  " 

"  Honour  to  every  lady,"  put  in  my 
brother-in-law.  "  Honour  to  every  man, 
three  cheers  for  India." 

And  so  the  heated  discussion  ended 
happily,  to  every  one's  relief.  My  sister  and 
I  laughed,  but  our  laughter  was  drowned 
in  the  chorus  of  their  cheers. 


CHAPTER  XIII 


CHAPTER   XIII 

THE  controversy  happily  ended  there.  At 
table  the  conversation  turned  on  lighter 
subjects  :  England  and  its  icy  winter,  its 
skating  and  its  snowballing. 

"  Don't  you  pity  us  ?  "  said  my  sister, 
addressing  the  doctor.  "  We  have  never 
been  out  of  this  land,  never  seen  snow  or  ice 
excepting  once  at  Naini  Tal." 

"  But  the  ice  we  saw  there,"  I  replied, 
"  was  not  the  same  as  you  describe.  It 
was  a  sort  of  a  mound  of  ice,  a  mass  of 
frozen  snow  collected  in  a  gorge,  where 
it  remained  unthawed  even  in  summer. 
It  was  very  beautiful,  however.  At  one 
place  at  the  base  the  ice  had  melted  in  such 
a  way  as  to  form  a  bridge,  and  the  front 
having  melted  entirely,  the  whole  had  the 
appearance  of  a  house,  the  melted  part 
forming  the  entrance." 

"  It  was  a  beautiful  quiet  place, '  remarked 
my  sister.     "  We  reached  it  by  using  the 
sound  of  the  cascade  as  our  guide." 
133 


134       AN  UNFINISHED   SONG 

I  recalled  the  scene  to  which  my 
sister  referred,  and  with  my  mind's  eye 
beheld  it  once  more  in  all  its  exquisite 
detail. 

"  Beautiful  indeed,"  I  exclaimed.  "  Na- 
ture is  charming  in  that  place.  The 
abundant  and  varying  vegetation,  the  hills, 
the  springs,  the  streams  and  the  ice — all 
these  seem  to  have  conspired  to  seek  this 
lovely  spot  to  avoid  the  rude  gaze  of  man, 
and  jealously  diffuse  their  charms  before 
Mother  Nature  alone.  I  thought  fairyland 
lay  stretched  out  before  me  when  that 
gleaming  white  ice  palace,  those  cosy  foliage 
arbours  and  hills  and  valleys  suddenly 
appeared  before  my  view." 

My  sister  took  the  occasion  to  compliment 
me. 

"  Moni  describes  well.  I  could  not  have 
made  it  half  so  interesting." 

I  blushed  over  this  open  compliment  but 
said  nothing. 

My  brother-in-law  then  turned  to  my 
sister  and  said, 

"  You  are  like  myself,  you  have  almost 
forgotten  what  you  saw.  Could  you  give 
any  description  ?  " 

"  Why  should  I  forget  ?  "  she  retorted, 


AN   UNFINISHED    SONG       135 

"  I  haven't  clients  to  bother  me  day  and 
night." 

"  Well  then,  tell  us  how  the  ice  looked." 

"  Oh,  no  doubt,  I  could  do  that,  but  am 
I  here  to  be  examined  ?  " 

"  Very  well,  let  me  do  it  for  you.  Beauti- 
fully, faultlessly  white,  the  sublimest,  the 
beautifullest,  the  grandest." 

My  sister  checked  him. 

"  Now  really,  don't  tease  me  any  more," 
she  said. 

The  doctor  turned  towards  my  brother- 
in-law. 

"  I  see  you  are  not  satisfied  with  twenty- 
four  hours  a  day,  you  want  an  extra  half- 
hour  or  two.  You  monopolise  the  whole 
conversation." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  was  the  meek 
reply.  "  I  will  be  as  quiet  as  a  mouse." 

"  That  is  good,"  said  his  wife.  "  Now 
you  keep  quiet  and  we  will  talk.  The  ice, 
well,  it  did  not  look  like  the  ice  we  use  in 
our  drinking  water.  On  the  outer  wall 
of  the  icehouse  of  which  we  are  speaking 
it  looked  like  frozen  salt,  and  the  inner  wall 
was  smooth  and  soft  like  wax,  but  it  was 
somewhat  blackish,  having  come1  into  con- 
tact with  the  earth." 


136       AN   UNFINISHED   SONG 

"  Yes,  and  imagine,"  retorted  my  brother- 
in-law,  quite  forgetting  his  vow  of  silence, 
"  the  fancy  took  hold  of  these  two  to 
break  some  ice  off  the  walls  and  carry  it 
home." 

"  Well,  you  need  not  complain,"  was  his 
wife's  quick  reply.  "  You  did  not  help 
us  in  securing  any,  nor  did  we  secure  any 
for  ourselves  in  the  end — all  we  succeeded 
in  getting  were  a  few  particles  like  dry  salt." 

"  Had  I  been  there,"  the  doctor  assured 
her,  "  I  would  not  have  left  your  desire 
unfulfilled.  I  would  gladly  have  broken 
off  a  whole  basketful  of  ice  and  carried  it 
home  for  you." 

"  Now,  my  husband,  learn  from  this 
gentleman  how  to  please  a  lady." 

"  Ye  gods,  have  I  that  still  to  learn  ? 
Have  you  forgotten  how  I  used  to  make 
my  fingers  bleed  plucking  roses  for  you  ? 
That  was  before  we  were  married,  if  you 
remember  rightly." 

She  evidently  did  remember,  for  she 
blushed  charmingly  and  faltered  shyly, 

"  Well,  well."  Then  turning  to  the  doctor 
she  continued,  "  Please  do  go  on  with  your 
story.  Really  a  river  changed  into  a  glazed 
mirror  with  beautiful  creatures  moving 


AN   UNFINISHED   SONG        137 

about  upon  it  must  be  a  fairy  scene.  I  am 
afraid  you  became  quite  bewitched." 

My  brother-in-law  was  ready  again. 

"  Became  bewitched  over  what  ?  The 
skates,  the  ice  or  the  beautiful  creatures  ?  >! 

"  Ah,  but  you  were  not  asked,"  retorted 
my  sister. 

"  Possibly  I  was  bewitched,"  the  doctor 
answered ;  "  it  would  have  been  only 
natural  if  I  had  been,  but  the  land  had 
already  charmed  me  so  much,  that  I  was 
prepared  for  any  scene  of  beauty.  The 
fiery,  living  liberty,  the  irrepressible  energy 
impressed  me  first  of  all.  There  is  not  a 
sign  there  of  the  listlessness  of  our  country- 
men. One  can  do  the  work  of  ten  men 
and  enjoy  doing  it.  Almost  every  student 
at  my  college  found  time  for  games  besides 
being  present  at  the  lectures  regularly, 
attending  to  his  hospital  duties  and  surgical 
operations,  and  staying  up  late  into  the 
night  for  study.  Nor  did  they  entirely 
absent  themselves  from  dinner  parties,  balls, 
and  theatres.  I  became  simply  speechless 
in  my  admiration  of  their  energy." 

"  That  is  the  great  difference  between 
England  and  India,"  remarked  my  brother- 
in-law, 


138       AN  UNFINISHED   SONG 

The  doctor  continued, 

"  There  is  such  a  beautiful  method  of 
working  there  that  one  can  accomplish 
a  great  deal  without  getting  tired.  Lives 
seem  to  move  with  the  hands  of  the  clock. 
Whether  you  go  visiting  or  to  meet  anyone 
in  business,  you  go  about  it  as  if  you  had  to 
catch  a  train,  time  seems  to  be  so  strictly 
regarded.  In  the  beginning  this  made  me 
over  anxious,  and  I  was  often  half  an  hour 
ahead  of  the  appointed  time,  lest  I  should 
be  late,  and  so  I  would  find  myself  loitering 
around  the  street  to  pass  the  time 
away." 

1  had  been  silent  all  along,  but  at  last 
ventured  to  put  in  a  word. 

"  Whenever  I  hear  stories  about  England, 
I  wish  so  much  to  go  there." 

"  I  think,"  replied  the  doctor,  "  all  edu- 
cated men  and  women  should  go  there  at 
least  once.  We  are  so  moribund,  it  in 
vigorates  us  to  breathe  the  free  air  of  liberty. 
There  people  are  ever  tearing  down  old 
institutions  and  building  up  new  ones. 
Ideals  which  I  dared  not  cherish  here  seemed 
to  me  there  the  legitimate  object  of  aspira- 
tion. I  became  so  bold  in  my  fancies  in 
that  free  land  that  I  thought  I  could  reform 


AN   UNFINISHED   SONG       139 

this  country  single-handed,  could  e  :plode 
its  deeply-rooted  prejudices  with  gunpowder, 
so  to  speak.  I  now  blush  when  I  think  of 
my  wild  dreams." 

"  God  has  incapacitated  us,"  replied  my 
brother-in-law,  "  there  is  no  help  for  us. 
If  the  climate  of  India  had  been  like  that 
of  England  the  history  of  our  country  might 
have  been  written  differently." 

"  And  we  should  have  been  born  with 
fairer  complexions,"  remarked  my  sister. 
"  When  our  Aryan  ancestors  crossed  the 
five  rivers  they  are  said  to  have  been  very 
fair.  When  I  see  the  little  English  children 
with  their  soft  white  faces  and  cheeks  like 
dolls,  I  can  hardly  turn  my  eyes  from  them. 
They  seem  to  me  like  flowers  in  bloom. 
Why  has  not  God  made  us  fair  like 
them  ?  " 

"  You  ought  not  to  fret  on  that  account," 
rejoined  her  husband.  "  Have  we  not  proof 
of  the  fact  that  dark  beauty  conquered 
where  all  else  failed  ?  " 

"  But  oh,  fair  beauty  could  have  done 
much  more." 

"  I  do  not  agree  with  you,"  her  husband 
replied.  "  What  do  you  say,  doctor  ?  You 
have  come  back  from  that  land  of  the  sun, 


140       AN   UNFINISHED   SONG 

do  you  think  you  can  remain  unmoved  in 
this  land  of  beautiful  moonlight  ?  You  see 
my  plight  ?  " 

"  But  you  can  appreciate  the  moonlight 
better,  after  having  been  scorched  by  the 
sun.  Otherwise  I  fear  you  would  not  have 
remembered  your  native  land.  It  seems 
to  me  people  become  so  fascinated  that  in 
a  short  time  they  forget  country,  relations 
and  all.  That  is  really  a  great  surprise  to 


me." 


"  But  the  wonder  to  me  is  that  our  Bengali 
youths  do  not  forget  their  country  alto- 
gether." It  was  my  brother-in-law  who 
spoke  again.  "  That  any  of  us  return  as 
bachelors  and  marry  as  soon  as  we  come 
back  in  spite  of  the  charms  we  leave  behind, 
is  the  most  marvellous  part  of  all." 

"  Very  well,  you  may  return  to  England, 
nobody  is  preventing  you,"  said  my  sister. 

"  Well,  well,  you  are  very  generous  indeed 
to  make  me  this  offer  now  that  you  see  I 
am  bound  down  by  a  chain." 

I  do  not  know  how  long  this  jest  between 
husband  and  wife  might  have  continued 
had  I  not  interrupted  it. 

"  Tell  me  what  pleased  you  most  in  that 
land  ?  "  I  asked  the  doctor. 


AN   UNFINISHED   SONG        141 
"  What      pleased      me      most  ?       The 


women  s 

"  Beauty,"  broke  in  my  brother-in-law. 
"  Good  heavens,  man,  I  have  never  yet 
been  guilty  of  that  remark." 

"  It  is  very  courteous  of  you,  doctor," 
said  my  sister  laughingly,  "  to  tell  us  that 
to  our  face." 

"  But  pardon,  madame,  it  was  not  I  who 
said  that,  it  was  your  husband.  What  I 
liked  best  was  the  liberty  and  self-reliance 
of  the  women.  Day  by  day  their  sphere 
of  activity  expands  until  they  have  begun 
to  invade  the  realms  of  politics.  The  men 
may  laugh  at  them,  but  nevertheless  they 
respect  their  women  for  it.  It  is  impossible 
for  us  to  realise  here  what  influence  those 
women  exercise  on  their  country  and  on 
the  individual,  and  how  beneficent  that 
influence  is.  Our  life  seems  purposeless 
compared  with  it." 

"  But,"  I  replied,  "  since  in  our  country 
men  and  women  mix  together  so  little,  it 
must  seem  very  strange  to  a  new  comer  to 
find  himself  constantly  in  the  company  of 
ladies." 

"  That  is  true.  I  must  admit  my  con- 
dition was  a  miserable  one.  To  give  you 

1 


142       AN   UNFINISHED    SONG 

a  simile,  I  felt  like  one  trying  to  keep  afloat 
in  the  Ganges  with  only  a  thread  to  guide 
him  to  the  opposite  shore." 

My  sister  laughed  most  cordially  at  this 
comparison  and  asked  him  to  explain. 

He  continued,  "  I  did  not  know  the 
habits,  manners  and  customs,  nor  yet  the 
language  properly.  We  learn  the  language 
by  studying  philosophy,  history  and  science 
in  books,  but  we  cannot  carry  on  a  con- 
versation in  short  sentences  nor  return  an 
answer.  When  introduced  to  a  lady  I 
would  become  nervous  and  awkward.  I 
had  learned  my  words  entirely  from  the 
dictionary  and  had  laid  the  greatest  stress 
on  accent  and  pronunciation.  The  result 
was  I  could  hardly  understand  English 
people  when  they  spoke  to  me.  There  was 
still  another  difficulty.  I  was  told  again  and 
again,  *  You  have  cut  So-and-So  ;  he  lifted 
his  hat  to  you  in  the  street  but  you  did 
not  return  his  greeting  ! '  Good  heavens  ! 
whom  had  I  met,  who  had  lifted  his  hat 
to  me  ?  My  life  was  practically  teased  out 
of  me  by  having  to  make  excuses  for  this 
kind  of  thing  every  day.  The  fact  was  I 
did  not  look  around  me  very  much  when 
walking,  moreover  those  white  faces  looked 


AN   UNFINISHED   SONG        143 

to  me  so  much  alike  that  unless  one  was 
particularly  familiar  to  me,  it  was  difficult 
for  me  to  recognise  it.  Again,  if  I  entered 
a  shop  to  make  a  purchase  worth  a  penny, 
I  found  myself  five  pounds  poorer  when 
going  over  my  cash  account  that  evening, 
simply  on  account  of  the  importunity  of 
the  shopkeeper.  It  is  necessary  to  learn 
to  say  *  no  '  in  that  land,  or  there  is  no  end 
of  danger.  I  finally  learned  to  stand  erect 
on  English  soil,  but  Heaven  alone  knows 
how  often  I  tripped  before  I  accomplished 
it." 

"  At  last  you  became  master  of  the 
situation  ?  "  asked  my  sister. 

"  I  cannot  even  say  that,  madame.  My 
Bengali  friends  used  to  tell  me  I  was  hope- 
lessly green  up  to  the  last." 

"  How  long  did  you  know  Romanath 
there  ?  "  asked  my  brother-in-law. 

"  I  met  him  at  the  house  of  a  mutual  friend 
only  a  few  days  before  I  left  England." 

"  Was  he  really  engaged  to  be  married  ?  >! 

The  doctor  looked  taken  aback.  He 
hesitated  for  a  while  and  then  replied, 
"  I  heard  so,  but — I  am  afraid  this  is  not 
a  fit  subject  for  the  dinner  table." 

"  You  are  right,"  replied  my  brother-in- 


144       AN   UNFINISHED   SONG 

law,  "  let  us  discuss  the  matter  another 
time.  I  have  my  own  reasons  for  asking 
you." 

The  subject  was  dropped  accordingly,  to 
my  great  relief. 

The  night  that  followed  was  one  of 
exquisite  moonlight,  sky  and  earth  alike 
were  illumined  by  a  silver  glow.  We  re- 
paired to  the  terrace  after  dinner. 

My  sister  addressed  the  doctor,  saying, 
"  According  to  your  account  everything 
in  England  is  superb  ;  but  had  you  ever 
there  a  moon  like  this  ? >J 

"  Moonlight  was  rare  indeed.  Perhaps 
it  was  owing  to  this  fact  that  it  used  to 
look  so  glorious  when  it  did  appear." 

"  You  are  hopelessly  bewitched,  I  see," 
rejoined  my  sister.  "  Not  only  does  Eng- 
land hold  the  most  beautiful  women,  but 
the  most  perfect  moon  as  well.  How  could 
you  ever  in  the  face  of  all  these  fascinations 
come  back  again  ?  Really  that  puzzles 


me." 


He  caressed  his  handsome  beard  and 
smiled. 

"  Truth  is  sometimes  stranger  than  fiction. 
When  the  chances  are  good,  there  is  almost 
always  disappointment,  and  where  one 


AN   UNFINISHED   SONG       145 

expects  the  least,  there  often  the  unexpected 
happens." 

As  he  said  this  he  threw  a  timid  glance  at 
me.  That  glance  and  the  moonlight  seemed 
like  harmony  blended.  A  thrill  of  happiness 
went  through  my  being  and  I  sighed. 


CHAPTER  XIV 


CHAPTER   XIV 

WHEN  a  visitor  leaves  he  is  usually  dis- 
cussed. So  after  the  doctor  had  taken 
his  leave,  we  spoke  of  him  for  a  while. 

"  He  makes  a  good  impression,"  remarked 
my  sister. 

"  Yes,  he  is  not  a  bad  fellow,"  rejoined 
my  brother-in-law.  "  He  has  not  much 
common  sense,  though,  too  much  of  a 
woman  worshipper  I  should  say." 

"  That  is  good." 

"  Who  says  it  is  bad  ?  Poor  fellow,  I 
pity  him.  He  is  quite  lost  in  admiration 
of  the  fair  sex.  Fancy,  an  intelligent  young 
man  believing  in  the  possibility  of  a  female 
Shakespeare." 

"  Is  that  such  an  impossible  thing  ?  " 

"  And  what  is  worse  still,  he  does  not 
hesitate  to  make  a  fool  of  himself  by  ex- 
pressing his  outrageous  opinion  before  others. 
I  wonder  if  the  man  has  any  idea  how 
ludicrous  it  sounds." 

149 


150       AN   UNFINISHED   SONG 

"  It  seems  to  me  a  proof  of  the  fact  that 
he  has  great  strength  of  conviction."  This 
remark  came  from  me. 

My  brother-in-law  turned  towards  me 
and  said, 

"  You  are  right,  it  shows  his  sincerity. 
I  like  him  the  better  for  his  outspoken 
foolish  enthusiasm." 

"  The  man  has  a  warm  heart,"  said  my 
sister." 

"  Yes,  and  the  manners  of  a  perfect 
gentleman,"  replied  her  husband.  Then 
as  if  a  new  idea  took  hold  of  him  suddenly 
he  exclaimed, 

"  How  would  you  like  to  see  him  married 
to  Moni  ?  " 

"  He  is  already  engaged,"  replied  my 
sister. 

"  Good  Gods,  who  has  told  you  that  ? 
I  thought  he  was  rather — aw — well,  never 
mind  what  I  thought.  But  who  told  you 
that  he  is  engaged  ? J: 

"  Chanchal's  mother  told  me." 

"  Who  has  tackled  him  so  soon  ?  The 
report  may  after  all  be  mere  gossip." 

"  No,"  replied  my  sister.  "  It  does  not 
seem  to  be  that.  She  heard  it  from  the 
doctor's  mother,  but  who  the  chosen  lady 


AN   UNFINISHED    SONG       151 

is  I  do  not  know.  I  did  not  enquire.  What 
was  the  good  of  my  knowing  ? >: 

"  Bad  luck  everywhere.  Well,  let's  retire 
and  congratulate  the  happy  pair  in  our 
dreams." 

It  was  fortunate  for  me  that  it  was  dark, 
they  could  not  therefore  see  the  sudden 
change  in  my  face.  I  know  I  must  have 
turned  pale,  I  felt  it. 

Alone  in  my  room  that  night  I  found  no 
sleep.  I  sat  by  the  open  window  and  gazed 
into  the  beautiful  moonlight  before  me. 
Clouds  of  varying  hue  passed  softly  over 
the  sky.  I  reflected  what  this  evening  had 
brought  to  me.  I  saw  one  face  ever  before 
me,  until  the  sorrow  that  filled  my  heart 
overflowed  and  filled  my  eyes  with  tears. 

Was  it  merely  fancy  after  all  ?  That 
deep  fond  glance  he  had  cast  at  me,  the 
uncommon  cordiality  he  showed  even  in 
ordinary  conversation,  were  they  after  all 
no  more  than  the  expression  of  his  own 
deep  nature  ?  How  little,  how  unworthy  I 
suddenly  appeared  in  my  own  eyes.  How 
could  I  forget  myself  so  far  as  to  think 
that  this  was  all  for  me  ?  No,  it  could 
never,  never  be,  it  was  all  a  delusion,  a 
fancy. 


152       AN   UNFINISHED   SONG 

There  was  the  moonlight  outside  and  the 
light  of  those  eyes  in  my  heart,  but  the 
cheerfulness  I  had  felt  in  his  presence  was 
gone  and  melancholy  and  dejection  took 
its  place,  the  spring  that  had  entered  my 
heart  a  few  hours  ago  was  already  withering 
before  the  wintry  blast  of  reality. 

He,  too,  came  back  to  my  mind,  the  man 
whose  love  I  had  spurned.  We  are  taught 
Karma,  that  is  to  say,  the  effect  of  causes 
created  by  ourselves.  Had  this  sorrow 
come  upon  me  because  I  had  caused  pain 
to  another  ?  Had  I  occasioned  my  own 
affliction  ?  Be  that  as  it  might  I  could  not 
bring  back  the  love  that  I  knew,  and  this 
new  love  had  not  come  to  me  through  any 
desire  on  my  part.  I  would  gladly  have 
torn  it  from  my  heart  for  ever,  for  it  gave  me 
no  happiness.  Was  it  the  uncontrollable 
force  of  Karma  again  that  had  brought  this 
new  passion  into  my  life  ?  If  man  is  not 
responsible,  then  why  must  he  suffer  so  ? 
Oh,  great  Creator,  behold  Thy  work,  how 
helpless,  how  weak  are  thy  creatures ! 
Still  into  the  darkness  of  this  hour,  I  felt 
God's  mercy  shining,  I  thought  of  my  child- 
hood once  more,  and  a  pathetic  prayer 
breathed  from  my  heart : 


AN   UNFINISHED   SONG        153 

"  Oh,  merciful  God,  even  as  Thou  took 
pity  upon  me  when  I  was  a  helpless  child 
and  gave  peace  and  happiness  to  my  young 
life,  grant  me  to-day " 

The  prayer  died  unfinished  on  my  lips. 
What  was  I  doing  ?  Praying  to  God  to 
give  to  me  the  lawful  right  of  another  ? 
Another  was  to  sacrifice  her  life's  happiness 
for  my  sake  ?  The  feeling  that  came  over 
me  with  this  sudden  change  of  thought 
overpowered  me  and  I  fell  helplessly  to 
the  ground,  and  there  in  my  agony  I  groaned 
another  prayer  : 

"  Mercy,  Divine  God,  oh  grant  me  strength 
to  endure.  Help  me  to  bear  up  in  patience 
under  a  trial  which  will  but  purify  my  life 
in  the  end.  Have  mercy,  O  Lord ! " 
And  thus  amid  prayers  and  tears  I  fell 
asleep  that  night,  but  the  dawn  brought 
no  relief,  the  terrible  experience  of  the 
night  just  passed  was  upon  me  still,  and  the 
vision  of  that  face,  that  look  so  tender, 
followed  me  like  a  shadow. 


CHAPTER  XV 


CHAPTER   XV 

I  REMAINED  in  the  same  condition  as  the  day 
wore  on,  aimless,  without  hope,  without 
any  desire  even  to  fight  the  inevitable,  yet 
as  water  struggles  underneath  a  rock,  so  did 
the  instinct  of  life  work  underneath  despair, 
my  emotions  were  at  war  with  each  other. 
I  felt  like  one  bleeding  from  a  thousand 
wounds  in  this  struggle  with  myself.  I  felt 
as  if  in  God's  Kingdom  there  was  not 
another  that  suffered  as  I  did. 

And  still  the  whole  affair  filled  me  with 
amazement  at  my  own  nature.  I  had  known 
him  only  a  few  days,  I  had  spoken  to  him  a 
few  times  only.  Was  I  then  going  mad 
that  I  should  give  way  to  my  feelings  in  this 
way  ?  I  felt  as  if  I  could  draw  into  my 
being  at  once  all  the  beauty  and  sorrow,  the 
joy  and  agony,  the  happiness  and  misery  of 
all  existence  since  that  sacred  moment  when 
my  soul  touched  his. 

I  had  thought  I  loved  the  other,  but  oh, 
L  157 


158       AN   UNFINISHED   SONG 

how  far  short  had  been  that  feeling  of  what 
now  controlled  me.  He  had  fascinated  me 
with  a  song,  had  brought  upon  me  the  pain 
of  past  memories.  What  knew  I  then  of  this 
complete  immolation  of  body  and  soul  ? 
That  emotion  had  been  but  the  outcome  of 
a  strong  sympathy,  a  deep-rooted  faith  in 
love  I  had  thought  to  be  genuine,  but  when 
it  had  been  unable  to  stand  the  test,  the 
faith  that  had  gone  with  it,  and  which  I 
had  mistaken  for  love,  had  died  out.  Now 
even  though  the  feeling  I  had  for  this  man 
brought  me  no  happiness,  nay  worse,  car- 
ried me  to  the  every  verge  of  despair  itself, 
yet  I  had  no  desire  to  get  away  from  it,  it 
became  on  the  contrary  more  firmly  rooted 
in  my  being  with  every  fleeting  moment. 
My  daily  duties  became  a  thing  apart 
from  my  life.  People  came  and  spoke 
of  affairs,  I  spoke  with  them,  but  it  all 
seemed  like  something  far  away,  some- 
thing in  which  I  was  no  longer  concerned. 
I  endeavoured  to  forget  him,  but  every 
endeavour  brought  nearer  to  me  the  con- 
sciousness of  my  great  love.  My  being 
became  composed  of  it,  and  whatever  came 
into  my  life  became  converted  into  it.  The 
very  breezes  wiiispered  of  a  love  that  was 


AN   UNFINISHED   SONG       159 

mine,  mine,  and  yet  not  mine.  From  out 
the  vastness  of  space  came  a  cry  of  despair, 
of  agony. 

"  I  ask  not  to  be  his,"  called  out  my 
feeble  heart.  "  I  ask  but  to  see  him,  to 
hear  his  voice  at  times.  Grant  me  that, 
oh  Fate,  and  I  shall  feel  compensated  for 
the  sorrow  of  existence."  There  was  no 
wounded  pride  in  this,  I  had  no  pride  to 
wound,  humility  alone  claimed  me  as  her 
own. 

Thus  as  the  days  went  by  the  fire  in 
my  soul  burnt  on.  I  knew  not  whether 
time  would  bring  peace,  but  it  seemed  to 
me  there  was  but  one  flame  that  could 
extinguish  the  agony,  the  pain  that  would 
not  leave  me,  and  that  was  the  last,  the 
flame  that  consumes  all  that  is  mortal 
in  man.  Was  I  really  to  drag  on  this  life 
until  I  was  old  ?  I  shuddered  at  the  very 
thought.  Was  this,  then,  the  love  I  had 
dreamt  of,  was  it  to  find  its  realisation 
in  a  yearning  not  to  be  satisfied,  a  groping 
for  something  that  could  not  be  grasped  ? 

Chanchal  came  to  see  me  one  afternoon. 
She  was  my  bosom  friend.  We  were  in  the 
habit  of  spending  one  day  together  at  least 
once  a  week.  Her  searching  eyes  noticed 


160       AN   UNFINISHED   SONG 

a  change  in  me,  the  melancholy  that  was 
written  on  my  face  did  not  escape  her. 

"  You  say  it  has  not  affected  you  ?  It 
is  too  terrible  to  see  how  you  look.  I  am 
so  angry  with  him.  And  just  think  of  it, 
my  uncle  and  aunt  proposed  to  marry 
my  cousin  to  him."  Chanchal  became 
excited  as  she  said  this. 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  hear  it,"  I  replied. 

"  Moni,  do  you  mean  that  ?  Can  you  tell 
me  in  good  faith  that  you  do  not  love  him 
any  more,  that  you  are  not  sorry  because 
the  engagement  has  been  broken  off  ?  " 

"  I  am  not  sorry.  Chanchal,  do  you  think 
I  would  tell  you  an  untruth  ?  I  might  not 
tell  you  all  that  is  in  my  heart,  but  tell  you 
a  falsehood — never." 

Chanchal  was  evidently  delighted  at  this 
assurance.  She  pressed  my  cheeks  between 
her  palms  and  exclaimed  : 

"  You  dear,  sweet  friend,  I  do  not  know 
then  what  ails  you.  You  are  not  in  your 
best  mood.  Certainly  you  trusted  this 
man,  and  he  deceived  you.  That  must 
cause  you  pain." 

"  Yes,  it  caused  me  some  pain,  that  I  will 
not  deny,  but  do  not  think  that  I  am  pining 
over  that  affair  now." 


AN  UNFINISHED   SONG       161 

"  If  I  had  been  in  your  place  I  should 
have  died.  If  ever  a  week  passes  without 
a  letter  from  England  for  me,  I  don't  know 
what  I  am  doing." 

"  Ah,  but  you  are  married.  Even  if 
your  husband  should  forget  you,  you  can 
never  forget  him,  but  my  case  was  different ; 
I  could  forget  and  I  did." 

"  That  may  be  the  difference.  Cousin 
Kusum,  too,  is  quite  at  ease.  I  see  I  intro- 
duced perhaps  too  much  of  my  own  feeling 
into  the  matter  when  sympathising  with 
you.  Have  you  heard  that  Kusum's  en- 
gagement to  Mr.  Roy,  too,  has  been  broken 
off  ?  " 

"  No,  I  have  not  heard  of  it.    Why  ?  " 

"  That  I  do  not  know.  They  do  not  dis- 
close everything  to  us,  but  I  hear  from  other 
people  that  the  marriage  will  not  take  place. 
I  believe  it  is  Romanath  who  has  broken  it 
off,  because  I  understood  Kusum  was  willing. 
Really  the  man  must  have  extraordinary 
powers,  or  never  would  he  have  been 
able  to  make  an  impression  on  cousin 
Kusum  !  " 

This  news  affected  me.  I  felt  remorse 
again.  Why  should  he  have  objected  to 
this  marriage  ?  Was  this  on  my  account 


162       AN   UNFINISHED   SONG 

still  ?  Chanchal  noticed  my  pensive  mood 
and  enquired, 

"  What  are  you  thinking  so  earnestly  ?  " 

"  Did  your  cousin  really  love  him  ?  "  I 
asked  Chancal.  "  My  heart  aches  for  her. 
Had  I  the  power  I  would  bring  about  the 
marriage." 

"  You  ?  You  pity  my  cousin  ?  Would 
she  waste  so  much  sentiment  on  you  ? 
There  is  no  need  to  pity  my  cousin,  she  has 
sufficient  self-love  and  knows  her  own  value 
too  well,  and  perhaps  she  has  reason  on  her 
side.  She  is  beautiful  and  accomplished, 
and  the  man  who  marries  her  will  get  a  prin- 
cess and  half  a  kingdom.  There  is  no  know- 
ing how  many  men  are  sighing  for  her.  If 
you  want  to  pity,  rather  pity  those  dis- 
appointed suitors.  If  cousin  Kusum  really 
did  receive  a  scar  from  this  affair,  rest 
assured  it  is  healed  by  this  time." 

"  You  should  not  be  so  quick  to  judge. 
Do  you  not  know  that  they  remember 
longest  who  do  not  fall  in  love  easily  ?  " 

"  Yes,  if  my  cousin  had  loved  him  in  any 
high  degree,  but  don't  you  fear  that  she  has 
done  that.  The  man  is  attractive,  he 
creates  a  temporary  impression  on  others 
by  his  conversation  and  manners,  but  I  do 


AN   UNFINISHED   SONG       163 

not  see  how  any  one  could  fall  in  love  with 
him  very  deeply.  I  could  not,  of  that  I  am 
certain,  and  it  now  appears  that  you  did  not 
either,  and  yet  you  think  Kusum  might  have 
lost  her  heart." 

"  You  exhibit  extraordinary  logic." 

"  We  read  much  in  English  literature  of 
love  at  first  sight,  but,  believe  me,  that  means 
only  a  slight  emotion  that  inexperienced 
youth  mistakes  for  love.  Now  it  is  just 
possible  that  Kusum  felt  a  little  bubbling 
of  the  heart,  but  no  doubt  it  has  subsided 
ere  this.  True  love  can  never  be  based  on 
mere  impulse ;  that  requires  a  training  of 
the  heart  and  a  fit  object  to  rest  upon.  Yet 
if  I  heard  of  somebody  falling  in  love  with 
the  doctor  I  could  understand  it.  Do  you 
know  we  joke  cousin  Kusum  about  him  ;  he 
has  become  their  family  physician.  I  sus- 
pect he  has  been  tackled." 

The  blood  coursed  madly  through  my 
veins,  my  face  became  flushed,  and  I  feared 
I  would  betray  myself,  but  Chanchal  did 
not  notice  it,  her  attention  was  just  then 
attracted  in  another  direction. 

"  Here  you  are,  coz,"  she  exclaimed. 
"  You  will  live  long.  We  were  just  talking 
about  you,  and  now  you  have  come." 


164       AN   UNFINISHED   SONG 

And  really  there  stood  Kusum.  I  had 
not  met  her  for  a  long  time.  She  looked 
greatly  changed.  Her  eyes  lacked  their 
usual  brilliancy,  and  the  self-conscious  smile 
that  was  generally  on  her  lips  had  dis- 
appeared. I  felt  sorry  for  her,  and  fearing 
that  she  might  think  me  ungracious  spoke 
to  her  pleasantly  and  said  : 

"  I  am  so  glad  to  see  you,  Kusum,  I  have 
not  seen  you  for  an  age." 

Kusum  was  reserved  and  she  replied  : 

"  I  have  often  thought  of  calling  on  you, 
but  I  could  not  somehow  or  other  succeed 
in  doing  so,  but  why  did  you  not  call  at  our 
place  all  this  time  ? >! 

I  was  somewhat  at  a  loss  for  a  reply,  but 
presently  said  : 

"  I  am  going  home  shortly.  I  have  been 
busy." 

"  Going  into  the  wilderness  in  her  grief," 
interrupted  Chanchal. 

That  was  ungracious  of  Chanchal.  What 
would  Kusum  think  of  me  ?  She  herself 
seemed  to  realise  that  she  had  said  the 
wrong  thing ;  she,  therefore,  changed  the 
subject,  and  asked  Kusum  about  the 
doctor. 

Kusum  replied  sharply  : — 


AN   UNFINISHED   SONG        165 

"  What  do  I  know  of  him  ?  Perhaps 
Moni  can  tell  you,  he  comes  to  her  house 
often  enough.  Why  should  she  grieve  about 
any  one  ?  Others  would  consider  them- 
selves lucky  if  they  had  her  good  fortune." 

Her  object  was  to  vent  her  feelings  on 
me,  but  she  let  out  the  truth  at  the  same 
time.  As  she  spoke  she  sighed,  and  jealousy 
and  despair  shone  out  of  her  eyes.  It 
was  plain — Kusum  had  fallen  in  love,  but 
the  question  remained  with  whom — with 
Romanath  or  with  the  doctor  ? 


CHAPTER  XVI 


CHAPTER   XVI 

THERE  could  no  longer  be  any  doubt  about 
it  that  Kusum  loved  the  doctor.  Chanchal 
was  only  surmising,  she  did  not  know  how 
the  matter  stood.  It  was  evident  that 
Kusum  had  broken  off  the  engagement  with 
Romanath  herself ;  why  should  he  have 
objected  to  so  favourable  a  match  ? 

As  long  as  there  is  no  moonlight  the  stars 
appear  bright  enough,  but  let  the  moon  come 
and  the  stars  grow  dim.  Kusum  might  have 
admired  Romanath  as  long  as  she  did  not 
know  the  doctor,  but  it  was  evident  now 
that  she  had  become  attached  to  the  latter, 
otherwise  why  should  she  have  become  so 
flurried  at  the  mere  mention  of  his  name  ? 
Poor  Romanath,  how  sorry  I  felt  for  him  ! 

Thus  through  the  long  hours  of  the  night 
these  thoughts  passed  through  my  brain. 
How  fortunate  Kusum  was.  Was  I  getting 
jealous  of  her  ?  Perhaps.  People  say  there 
is  always  a  certain  amount  of  jealousy 
169 


\ 


170       AN  UNFINISHED   SONG 

in  love.  Could  I  consider  myself  of  a 
different  mould  from  women  generally  ? 
Jealousy,  if  such  it  was,  impressed  me  as  a 
very  harmless  feeling,  it  died  away  in  a 
sigh,  it  left  no  malice  behind  it.  How 
could  I  indeed  allow  such  a  feeling  to  spring 
up,  for  surely  Kusum  was  not  guilty  of  any 
wrong,  she  had  not  robbed  me  of  anything  ? 
What  I  never  possessed  could  not  be  taken 
from  me.  If  he  loved  her,  it  was  through  her 
own  deserts,  and  if  he  did  not  love  her,  it 
did  not  necessarily  follow  that  he  should 
bestow  his  love  on  me.  The  strangest  part 
of  it  all  was,  that  I  began  to  love  Kusum, 
for  whom  I  had  not  so  far  cherished  even 
friendship.  The  feeling  became  so  strong, 
I  felt  I  must  draw  her  towards  me,  and 
acting  on  the  impulse  I  rose  from  my  bed 
with  the  intention  of  writing  to  her,  but  as 
I  sat  down  at  my  desk  I  thought  better  of 
it.  What  would  Kusum  think  of  me  ? 
How  absurd  I  would  appear  in  her  eyes. 

.  When  my  sister  saw  me  the  next  morning 
she  addressed  me  cheerfully, 

"  Do  you  know  that  he  is  coming  here  ?  " 
My     heart     began     to     beat     rapidly. 
"  When  ?  "   I   asked. 
"  To-morrow,  to  the  tennis  party.    You 


AN   UNFINISHED   SONG        171 

do  not  speak  of  your  sorrow,  but  the  way 
in  which  you  are  getting  more  emaciated 
every  day  brings  the  tears  to  my  eyes." 

I  became  embarrassed,  so  even  my  sister 
had  noticed  it. 

"  Becoming  emaciated  !     That  is  all  non- 


sense." 


"  Why  do  you  grieve  so,"  replied  my 
sister,  "  over  a  trifling  mistake  ?  " 

I  started,  it  was  clear  she  was  not  speaking 
of  the  doctor. 

My  sister  continued.  "  There  is  no  doubt 
about  the  fact  that  he  loves  you.  He  met 
my  husband  the  other  day  and  himself 
broached  the  subject.  He  said  he  was  mor- 
tified by  your  behaviour,  and  though  there 
was  pressure  brought  to  bear  on  him  from 
another  direction  to  marry  a  certain  young 
lady,  he  had  not  pledged  himself.  If  you 
will  consent  even  now  he  is  ready  to  sacrifice 
everything.  He  will  come  to-morrow,  now 
see  that  you  don't  get  into  a  misunderstand- 
ing again.  You  both  care  for  each  other, 
why  so  much  fuss  over  a  little  difference  ?  " 

My  head  reeled.  I  knew  it  was  impossible 
for  me  to  love  him.  Then  marry  him — 
never.  I  calmly  replied  : 

*'  He  will  have  to  make  no  sacrifice  on  my 


172       AN   UNFINISHED    SONG 

account.  Why  have  you  renewed  this 
affair  ?  I  cannot  marry  him." 

"  You  are  too  fastidious  about  a  word," 
replied  my  sister.  "  Just  because  he  has 
used  the  word  *  sacrifice  '  you  take  offence." 

"  You  are  mistaken,  sister,  I  have  taken 
no  offence.  I  do  not  love  him,  and  I  do  not 
think  he  loves  me.  Why  should  I  accept  a 
sacrifice  from  one  for  whom  I  do  not  care  ? 
If  he  did,  he  would  not  speak  of  sacrifice." 

My  sister  laughed  and  said, 

"  I  cannot  overcome  your  argument, 
Moni,  but  he  will  come  to-morrow,  and  he 
will  be  able  to  meet  your  logic  and  soothe 
your  troubled  feelings." 

I  saw  she  did  not  understand  me  yet,  and 
I  therefore  tried  to  explain. 

"  Didi,*  you  are  really  making  a  mistake. 
I  do  not  feel  offended.  On  the  contrary, 
I  am  glad  to  think  that  he  may  have  found 
another.  A  great  responsibility  has  been 
taken  from  me.  I  always  knew  I  could  not 
love  this  man,  and  now  I  see  he  does  not 
love  me  either,  and  yet  I  am  supposed  to  be 
the  cause  of  his  unhappiness.  It  is  a  wrong 
way  of  reasoning." 

My  sister  became  annoyed  with  me  again 

*  Respectful  form  of  addressing  elder  sister. 


AN   UNFINISHED    SONG        173 

"  Moni,  I  have  never  before  seen  a  girl  so 
selfish  as  you  are.  You  have  a  set  notion 
in  your  mind  that  he  does  not  love  you, 
and  you  are  holding  on  to  it  as  if  it  were  a 
treasure.  However,  all  will  be  settled  to- 
morrow. Let  there  be  an  interview,  and 
then  let  us  know  the  result." 

I  tried  to  remonstrate  with  my  sister, 
I  pleaded  with  her. 

"  I  cannot  see  him,  sister,  believe  me, 
I  cannot.  No,  tell  him  I  am  ill.'. 

"  I  cannot  do  that,  Moni.  My  husband 
has  asked  him  to  come,  and  has  given  him  to 
understand  that  you  have  no  further  objec- 
tion to  the  marriage,  and  now  you  say  you 
will  not  see  him.  This  is  really  too  bad." 

"  What  can  I  do  ?  If  I  meet  him,  I 
shall  only  have  to  say  the  same  thing  over 
again  to  him.  Believe  me,  Didi,  I  can  never 
marry  this  man." 

"  Do  you  know  that  people  are  already 
laughing  about  us  ?  Do  you  realise  what 
that  means  to  us  and  to  you  more  particu- 
larly ?  Do  you  think  you  are  acting  wisely  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  love  him." 

"  You  are  an  extraordinary  girl.  Only  a 
few  days  back  you  loved  him  so  ardently, 
and  now  you  declare  you  can  never  love 

M 


174       AN   UNFINISHED   SONG 

him.  Never  mind,  don't  give  way  to  foolish 
notions.  Once  you  are  married,  you  will 
understand  that  you  do  love  him." 

My  sister's  persistence  drove  me  almost 
to  despair. 

"  Sister,  I  implore  you,  do  not  force  me 
to  see  him,  I  do  not  understand  everything. 
I  thought  for  a  while  that  I  loved  him,  but 
I  know  better  now.  If  I  marry  him,  two 
lives  will  be  made  miserable." 

"  Then  do  exactly  as  you  think  best  for 
yourself.  I  have  no  more  to  say.  I  have 
never  yet  seen  such  an  obstinate  girl." 

And  my  sister  walked  away  angry  and 
excited  to  a  high  degree. 


CHAPTER  XVII 


CHAPTER   XVII 

I  HAVE  had  many  and  great  struggles  in 
my  life,  but  they  have  not  overpowered  me 
as  this  one  did.  I  felt  as  if  I  were  facing 
a  great  danger,  standing  alone  in  the  dark 
while  sharp  weapons  were  aimed  at  me  from 
every  direction.  Overcome  by  anguish,  I 
prostrated  my  sorrow-stricken  soul  at  the 
feet  of  the  Divine  Mother. 

"  Oh,  Mother  of  Mercy,"  I  pleaded, 
"  open  up  the  earth  before  me  that  I  may 
bury  myself  therein." 

And  lo,  the  Mother  took  compassion  upon 
me  and  sent  redress,  for  while  I  was  still 
praying  a  servant  announced  my  father's 
arrival.  There  was  hope,  there  was  light. 
Father  had  come  to  the  rescue.  He  had 
previously  written  that  he  would  come,  but 
I  had  not  expected  him  so  soon. 

He  had  gone  to  my  sister's  room  and  I 
went  there  to  greet  him,  but  when  I  ap- 
proached the  door,  I  became  so  frightened, 
thinking  of  what  had  happened,  I  dared  not 
177 


iy8       AN   UNFINISHED    SONG 

go  further.  From  the  room  came  angry 
voices.  My  father  seemed  in  a  passion  of 
rage  and  was  remonstrating  with  my  sister. 
I  knew  that  all  this  was  on  my  account, 
and  remained  standing  on  the  threshold. 
They  did  not  notice  me. 

"  I  tell  you,"  I  heard  my  father  say, 
"  it  is  a  wonder  to  me  that  I  have  not  gone 
mad  over  all  I  have  heard.  You  tell  me 
that  Moni  herself  broke  off  the  engagement, 
but  it  is  being  whispered  about  that  he 
found  the  girl  wanting  in  goodness  and 
modesty  and  therefore  refused  to  marry  her. 
What  am  I  to  say  to  that  ?  " 

"  It  is  false,"  replied  my  sister  emphati- 
cally. 

"  False,  of  course  it's  false  !  How  many 
girls  are  there  that  possess  the  inborn 
humility  and  modesty  that  Moni  has." 

"  Yes,  that  is  true,  but  I  meant  even  more. 
Mr.  Roy  has  never  said  unkind  things  about 
Moni.  He  is  even  now  willing  to  marry 
her." 

"  Willing  to  marry  her  !  Do  you  think 
I  will  give  my  daughter  to  that  man  F  " 

"  But  try  and  be  calm,  father,  and  you 
will  see  that  all  scandal  will  immediately 
be  averted  if  she  marries  him." 


AN   UNFINISHED    SONG       179 

"  Whatever  people  may  say,  whatever 
scandal  and  disgrace  there  may  be,  it  is 
certain  I  will  never  give  my  child  to  that 
wicked  man." 

"  But,  father,  you  do  the  man  injustice, 
you  do  not  know  him.  I  am  certain  these 
reports  do  not  come  from  him." 

But  my  father's  anger  was  not  pacified, 
he  continued  as  before  :  "  He  is  a  scoundrel. 
He  feels  humiliated  because  our  Moni  will 
not  marry  him,  and  to  save  himself  he  has 
circulated  these  reports,  and  I  am  to  give 
my  girl  to  him  ?  Never  !  I  will  take  Moni 
home  with  me  to-night.  I  will  myself  secure 
a  bridegroom  for  her,  one  whom  I  can  trust. 
I  want  no  more  of  your  English  court- 
ships." 

My  sister  urged  him  to  remain  at  least 
for  a  day  or  two,  but  my  father  would  listen 
to  no  entreaties.  That  very  night  we  left 
for  Dacca.  I  was  happy  when  I  stepped 
into  the  train,  I  felt  a  burden  taken  from  me. 
I  committed  myself  entirely  to  my  father's 
care,  and  oh,  how  peaceful  it  felt,  but,  alas  ! 
I  was  awakened  from  my  dream  too  soon  ; 
this  is  a  world  that  envies  us  repose  and 
peace. 

When   we   were   on   board    the   steamer 


i8o       AN   UNFINISHED   SONG 

passing  along  the  river  Padma  father  sud- 
denly said  : 

"  Do  you  remember  Chotu  ?  J! 

"  Yes,  father,  I  do." 

"  His  mother  wishes  to  make  you  her 
daughter-in-law,  and  I,  too,  would  like  to 
take  Chotu  as  my  son.  It  is  not  every  day 
such  a  desirable  bridegroom  is  to  be  had. 
If  fortune  favours  us,  we  will  celebrate  the 
marriage  with  as  little  delay  as  possible 
after  we  arrive  at  Dacca." 

I  felt  like  one  struck  by  lightning.  I 
remembered  the  time  when  being  married 
to  Chotu  was  the  one  vision  of  my  youthful 
life,  but  now  ! 


CHAPTER  XVIII 


CHAPTER   XVIII 

No  sooner  had  I  crossed  the  threshold  of 
my  father's  house,  than  my  aunt  accosted 
me. 

"  Good  Heavens,  what  a  big  girl,  and  not 
married  !  What  will  people  say  when  they 
see  her  ?  How  can  we  eat  our  rice  and  have 
that  girl  on  our  hands." 

My  father  appeared  nervous  and  tried 
to  make  excuses. 

"  She  will  not  be  unmarried  much  longer. 
Everything  has  been  settled,  as  you  know. 
So  don't  get  excited." 

His  words  were  barely  audible,  and  he 
seemed  to  be  anxious  to  get  away,  but  my 
aunt  was  fretting  still.  She  continued  : 

"  Indeed,  yes,  why  should  I  worry  ?  It 
is  all  very  well  to  talk,  but  people  will  come 
to  see  her,  and  what  will  they  say  when  they 
see  such  a  big  girl  unmarried  ?  It  will  not 
be  you  then  who  will  have  to  listen  to  it  all, 
it  will  be  I  who  will  have  to  reply  to  it." 

Poor  aunt !  she  had  indeed  cause  for 
183 


1 84       AN   UNFINISHED   SONG 

anxiety.  No  sooner  had  the  news  spread 
about  that  I  had  come  home,  than  there 
were  visitors  by  the  dozen.  It  seemed  as 
if  the  whole  female  population  of  the  town 
had  turned  out  to  greet  me.  Relations, 
friends,  neighbours,  every  one  knew  me 
and  had  a  claim  upon  me,  and  the  burden  of 
their  song  was  ever  the  same  ! 

"  What !  such  a  big  girl  and  not  married  ! 
How  can  you  eat  your  rice,  how  can  you 
sleep  at  night  ?  "  etc.,  etc.  The  condemna- 
tion fell  upon  my  father  and  every  one 
went  away  with  the  satisfaction  of  having 
said  something  sharp  about  him.  He  had 
neglected  his  duty  as  a  father,  he  had 
sinned  against  Society.  He  had  a  nineteen- 
year-old  spinster  on  his  hands,  and  that 
was  an  unpardonable  offence. 

Aunt  forgot  her  grief  over  my  sad  lot  by 
joining  the  chorus.  She,  too,  began  to 
blame  my  father  and  seemed  to  take  a 
morbid  delight  in  doing  so.  My  condition 
in  the  face  of  all  this  can  be  understood. 
My  life  became  well-nigh  unbearable.  Still 
I  felt  resolved  on  one  point — it  would  be 
far  better  for  me  to  remain  unmarried  and 
continue  being  worried  than  to  be  joined  to  a 
man  for  whom  my  heart  cared  not.  The 


AN  UNFINISHED   SONG        185 

whole  affair  put  a  severe  strain  upon  me, 
under  which  my  nervous  system  threatened 
to  break  down. 

These  things  continued  to  be  of  daily 
recurrence — the  unsparing  criticism  of  the 
people,  aunt's  admonitions  to  my  father, 
his  assurance  that  all  would  be  well  in  the 
end ;  but  I  heard  no  more  of  any  settled 
marriage,  nor  was  Chotu  mentioned  to 
me  again.  So  notwithstanding  the  fact 
that  my  heart  was  by  no  means  entirely 
at  ease,  I  became  more  composed  daily. 
Trepidation  left  me  and  I  gradually  became 
so  calm  that  I  could  take  a  reasonable 
view  of  what  was  going  on  around  me. 
If  people  said  unkind  things,  it  was  because 
they  could  not  overcome  time-honoured 
custom,  I  argued,  and  instead  of  being 
annoyed  with  them  any  longer,  I  began  to 
respect  them  for  the  strength  of  their 
convictions. 

Suddenly  my  palace  of  calm  was  broken 
to  pieces  again,  for  father  took  me  by 
surprise  one  day  during  dinner ;  he  an- 
nounced : 

"  Chotu  will  be  here  in  a  day  or  two. 
The  date  of  the  marriage  will  be  fixed  as 
soon  as  he  comes." 


i86       AN   UNFINISHED   SONG 

This  was  good  news  for  aunt.  She  ejacu- 
lated with  delight : 

"  The  bridegroom  is  himself  coming ! 
I  thought  his  mother  was  coming  first. 
But  never  mind  that,  times  are  changing 
and  nowadays  a  young  man  must  see  his 
bride  before  marrying  her.  Let  him  see  her 
then,  that  does  not  matter,  but  no  further 
delays.  The  marriage  must  take  place  this 
month  and  no  later." 

My  father  agreed  with  her. 

"  That   too  is   my  wish,"  he   replied. 


CHAPTER  XIX 


CHAPTER   XIX 

I  DID  not  know  what  happened  to  me  after 
this  information,  my  mind  was  in  a  turmoil. 
After  dinner  father  went  to  the  outer 
apartment  and  I  was  left  to  think  over 
my  fate.  Suddenly  I  felt  myself  growing 
strong,  my  natural  shyness  left  me,  and  I 
entered  my  room  still  confused,  yet  with 
a  strong  determination.  I  would  let  my 
father  know  how  I  felt.  I  could  not  face 
him  and  explain,  but  I  could  write,  and 
write  I  did. 

"  To  your  honoured  feet, 

"  Dear  Father, 

I  have  no  desire  to  marry.  I 
have  examined  my  heart  carefully,  and  I 
know  I  shall  find  no  happiness  in  marriage. 
Do  not  therefore  think  my  resolution  is 
the  result  of  a  foolish  fancy.  I  hear  that 
in  England  many  a  girl  remains  unmarried 
and  spends  her  life  in  service  to  her  country. 
Grant  me  to  do  likewise,  let  me  dedicate 
N  189 


i9o       AN   UNFINISHED   SONG 

my  life  in  service  to  the  Motherland.  There 
alone  will  I  find  happiness.  Do  not,  I 
beseech  you,  dear  father,  make  me  unhappy 
by  urging  me  into  marriage. 

"  Your  loving  daughter, 

"  MRINALINI." 

I  sent  a  servant  with  the  letter  to  father, 
taking  care  that  it  should  reach  him  before 
he  went  out  again.  I  waited  for  a  reply 
with  anxious  and  palpitating  heart.  Pres- 
ently I  heard  footsteps,  my  father  was 
coming.  Suddenly  my  shyness  returned 
and  I  thought  I  could  not  show  him  my  face 
again.  He  entered  the  room  and  remained 
standing  in  one  spot.  I  felt  his  gaze  upon 
me  although  I  stood  with  my  head  bent 
down.  After  a  pause  he  spoke : 

*'  I  see  you  have  a  very  mistaken  idea 
about  marriage.  Must  you  necessarily  re- 
main single  in  order  to  serve  your  country  ? 
Even  if  you  did,  you  could  not  do  much 
in  that  direction  under  the  present  con- 
ditions. You  will  be  able  to  fulfil  the 
duties  of  your  life  far  better  married  than 
single,  and  I  have  not  the  least  doubt  that 
you  will  be  happy.  For  both  the  temporal 
and  spiritual  well-being  of  woman  marriage 


AN   UNFINISHED   SONG        191 

is  the  best  road.  You  are  only  a  child  and 
know  nothing  of  life.  If  I  acted  upon  your 
advice  I  would  prepare  unhappiness  for 
you.  It  is  my  regret  that  I  have  not  been 
able  to  marry  you  before  now,  but  for- 
tunately I  have  succeeded  in  securing  a 
good  bridegroom  in  the  end.  Thank  God 
for  this  blessing  and  be  prepared  to  receive 
your  husband  with  a  joyful  heart." 

My  father  did  not  wait  for  a  reply  but 
left  me  abruptly.  His  determination  was 
firm,  I  was  powerless.  I  realised  I  could 
not  disobey  him.  I  was  after  all  but  a 
weak  Bengali  girl ;  I  could  but  obey.  There 
was  no  alternative.  I  could  not  after  this 
speak  further  to  my  father,  so  I  had  to  face 
the  inevitable. 


CHAPTER  XX 


CHAPTER   XX 

As  it  began  to  dawn  upon  me  more  and 
more  that  there  was  no  escaping,  thoughts 
crowded  my  brain  in  mad  confusion.  I 
saw  not  the  world  that  surrounded  me,  I 
was  hardly  aware  of  time  and  space,  my 
mind  had  entered  a  dreamy  state.  At 
intervals  I  felt  a  sensation  of  acute  pain, 
a  desire  to  see  light  through  the  darkness 
that  enshrouded  me.  At  these  moments 
I  felt  like  one  maddened  by  a  keen  struggle 
to  break  through  chains  that  are  too  strong 
to  be  broken.  It  seemed  like  irony  that 
of  all  men  Chotu  should  be  the  cause  of 
all  this,  Chotu  whom  I  had  loved  so  much, 
upon  whom  I  had  looked  as  a  friend.  Then 
suddenly  a  thought  dawned  upon  me,  it 
came  like  a  revelation :  Chotu,  the  friend 
of  my  childhood,  whom  I  had  trusted  as 
never  another,  Chotu  was  to  be  my  saviour 
now.  To  him  I  would  explain  everything 
and  he  would  come  to  my  rescue.  Now  my 
mental  atmosphere  became  clear  once  more. 

195 


196       AN   UNFINISHED   SONG 

I  felt  like  one  giddy  with  joy  at  the  inspira- 
tion that  had  taken  hold  of  me.  Yes, 
Chotu  would  save  me. 

While  still  I  was  reflecting  upon  all  that 
might  or  might  not  be,  a  servant  came  and 
handed  me  a  card.  What  strange  accident 
of  fate  was  this  ?  The  doctor  !  my  heart 
stood  almost  still ;  it  was  not  joy  that 
caused  it,  but  amazement.  I  was  like  one 
in  a  trance  when  I  told  the  servant  to  show 
him  in.  I  was  alone  in  the  drawing-room, 
the  only  private  apartment  the  house 
afforded.  I  had  fled  thither  to  be  away 
from  the  curiosity  and  annoying  remarks 
of  friends. 

Oh,  that  I  knew  what  was  the  right 
thing  for  me  to  do.  Was  it  then  really 
proper  that  I  should  receive  him  ?  It  was 
useless,  however,  for  me  to  weigh  the  ques- 
tion further,  for  before  me  stood  the  doctor 
ere  I  had  time  for  serious  reflection. 

"  You  appear  very  poorly,  are  you  suffer- 
ing still  ?  "  He  said  this  almost  immediately 
after  entering. 

I  do  not  know  whether  there  was  the 
expression  of  any  deep  sympathy  in  these 
words,  but  they  affected  me  deeply.  It 
required  great  effort  to  supp  ress  my  tears 


AN   UNFINISHED   SONG       197 

and   I   could  falter  only  a   few  words  in 
reply. 

*  You  here  ?  How  did  you  come  ? >: 
He  seemed  surprised.  "  Did  you  not  know 
I  would  come  ?  I  wrote  to  Mr.  Mazumdar 
(my  father)  that  I  would  be  here  to-day." 

My  father  was  not  in  the  habit  of  com- 
municating all  his  affairs  to  me.  I  therefore 
replied,  "  No,  I  had  not  heard  of  it.  You 
have  perhaps  come  here  in  connection  with 


a  case." 


He  remained  silent  for  a  while,  then 
said  : 

"  I  have  come  here  expressly  to  see 
you.  I  had  no  other  object  in  coming." 

This  was  a  great  surprise  to  me,  he  had 
come  expressly  to  see  me  !  On  the  impulse 
of  the  moment  I  cried  out : 

"  That  is  really  extraordinary ;  you  did 
not  seem  so  eager  to  see  me  in  Calcutta." 

He  smiled  and  fixed  his  clear,  full  gaze 
upon  me. 

"  I  see  I  made  one  of  my  many  mistakes 
in  acting  as  I  did,  but  did  you  not  under- 
stand me  ?  Did  you  not  feel  why  it  was  I 
came  so  seldom  f  " 

"  How  could  I  understand  ?  " 

He  adjusted  his  eyeglasses,  he  was  evi- 


198       AN  UNFINISHED   SONG 

dently  a  little  nervous,  then  he  looked  at 
me  with  that  sweet,  tender  look  that  I  had 
seen  in  his  eyes  when  he  leaned  over  me  as 
I  woke  from  my  deep  faint. 

"  I  remained  away  only  to  control  my 
desire  to  come  again  and  again,"  he  whis- 
pered. 

"  Then  am  I  to  understand  that  because 
you  have  come  now,  you  wish  never  to 
come  again  ?  " 

"  That  would  be  making  a  mistake  again," 
he  replied,  smiling  sadly,  and  then  as  I 
did  not  speak,  after  a  pause  he  began  again  : 

"  Circumstances  have  changed  since  I 
first  met  you.  You  were  then  engaged  to 
be  married.  That  is  all  over  now,  that  is 
why " 

Again  he  was  silent,  while  I  stood  with 
throbbing  heart,  the  perspiration  breaking 
out  upon  my  forehead.  Was  it  really 
true  ?  What  did  all  this  mean  ?  He  con- 
tinued : 

"  That  is  why  I  have  come  to  offer  you 
my  life,  my  soul,  my  being — the  decision 
lies  with  you." 

Can  language  describe  the  moments  that 
followed  ?  I  felt  myself  lifted  to  the  realms 
of  ecstasy.  All  existence  seemed  merged 


AN  UNFINISHED   SONG       199 

into  that  moment.  He  was  mine,  mine, 
my  heart  throbbed,  my  head  reeled,  I 
could  not  grasp  it.  If  there  be  Heaven  on 
earth  it  came  to  me  that  minute  when  he 
offered  his  life  to  me,  but  alas  !  this  great 
earth  of  ours  holds  the  reality  of  Heaven 
but  a  second  and  then  appears  more  threat- 
ening than  ever.  I  felt  as  if  by  some 
mocking  phantom  I  had  been  led  to  the 
gates  of  Paradise,  there  to  bid  farewell  to 
it  for  ever. 

Seeing  I  did  not  answer,  he  spoke  again  : 

"  Have  you  nothing  to  say  to  me  ?  Ever 
since  the  day  I  saw  you  after  my  return  from 
abroad,  I  have  known  that  I  love  you,  that 
without  you  my  life  will  be  empty." 

I  interrupted  him.  "  But  you  are  en- 
gaged." 

"  Am  I  ?  I  did  not  know  it.  Where  did 
you  hear  that  ?  " 

"  I  understand  your  mother  herself  said 


so." 


He  laughed  and  replied, 

"  My  mother  said  so  !  Well,  I  am  not 
surprised  to  hear  that.  Whenever  my  mother 
sees  a  girl  who  appears  good-looking  to  her 
she  makes  up  her  mind  that  that  very  girl 
must  become  her  daughter-in-law.  If  poly- 


200       AN   UNFINISHED   SONG 

gamy  were  still  in  vogue,  she  would  have 
had  half  a  dozen  daughters-in-law  by  this 
time.  Don't  let  that  disturb  you  further. 
I  am  asking  for  a  reply  to  my  appeal." 

What  could  I  say  ?  Was  I  not  his,  body 
and  soul  ?  How  could  I  tell  him  that  I  was 
to  become  the  wife  of  another  ?  At  last 
I  replied  timidly,  hardly  knowing  myself 
how  I  came  to  say  it : 

"  I  am  engaged.  Father  has  already 
settled  my  marriage." 

How  strangely  sad  he  looked,  how  strange- 
ly still  the  room  seemed,  for  neither 
of  us  dared  to  speak  after  that  for  a  long 
time. 

I  saw  the  struggle  that  went  on  within  him. 
At  last  he  spoke,  but  his  voice  was  barely 
audible. 

"  What  made  Mr.  Mazumdar  behave  in 
this  way  ?  However,  let  that  pass,  it 
should  be  discussed  with  him.  I  ask  you 
only  to  reply  to  one  question.  Do  you 
wish  to  marry  the  man  your  father  has 
selected  for  you  ?  " 

All  at  once  I  lost  my  shyness,  I  lifted  my 
head  high  and  looked  into  his  eyes  as  I 
spoke. 

"  No,  I  do  not  wish  it.     I  have  loved  you 


since  the  day  I  met  you  first,  and  I  shall 
never  love  another." 

I  saw  his  face  change  all  of  a  sudden,  he 
looked  like  one  inspired,  and  when  he  spoke 
again  his  voice  was  sweet  and  mellow. 

"  Have  you  told  your  father  this  ?  " 

I  was  surprised  at  his  question.  "  How 
can  I  say  this  to  my  father  F  "  I  replied. 
"  I  only  told  him  that  I  wished  to  remain 
unmarried,  that  marriage  would  not  make 
me  happy." 

"  And  his  reply  ?  " 

"  He  told  me  I  must  marry.  Poor  father, 
how  can  I  disobey  him  ?  Is  it  not  my  duty 
to  make  him  happy  ?  " 

"  But  do  you  owe  no  duty  to  love,  do  you 
owe  no  duty  to  yourself,  nor  yet  to  the  man 
who  cannot  face  life  without  you  ?  Ought 
you  to  sacrifice  your  life  and  his  to  some 
misconceived  idea  of  duty  ?  I  really  do  not 
think  your  father  would  force  you  into 
marriage  with  another  if  he  once  came  to 
know  how  the  matter  stands." 

I  knew  that  what  he  said  was  only  too 
true,  but  I  did  not  reply  until  he  spoke  again, 
with  an  air  of  impatience  this  time. 

"  If  you  cannot  speak  to  your  father,  let 
me  do  so." 


202       AN  UNFINISHED   SONG 

"  No,  no,  do  not  speak  to  my  father. 
Listen,  I  have  a  plan.  The  man  to  whom 
my  father  has  betrothed  me  is  a  friend  of  my 
childhood,  Chotu,  we  called  him.  I  have 
great  faith  in  him.  I  know  Chotu  will  save 
me.  I  loved  him  when  I  was  a  little  girl, 
and  I  regard  him  still  as  a  dear  friend.  The 
thought  of  him  fills  me  with  happy  memories, 
but  I  cannot  give  him  my  heart.  I  am  cer- 
tain Chotu  would  never  wish  me  to  be  un- 
happy, I  know  him  too  well  for  that." 

"  Chotu  ?  "  he  exclaimed,  "  you  are  to  be 
married  to  Chotu  ?  Certainly,  if  he  has  any 
manliness  in  him,  he  will  help  you." 

He  almost  laughed  out  loud  as  he  said 
this.  I  could  not  understand  him  and  en- 
quired : 

"  Do  you  know  Chotu  ?  " 

He  did  not  reply  to  my  question.  It 
seemed  he  did  not  hear  it.  He  only  said  : 

"  This  is  a  world  of  illusions.  Well,  tell 
Chotu  and  let  me  know  the  result.  I  am 
off.  I  may  come  back  this  evening,  but  if 
I  do  not  come  until  to-morrow,  do  not  take 
it  amiss.  I  have  not  seen  your  father  yet." 

And  he  departed — rather  abruptly  I 
thought,  not  allowing  me  to  say  a  word  in 
reply. 


CHAPTER  XXI 


CHAPTER   XXI 

HAPPINESS  at  last,  my  father  willing,  but 
the  doctor  had  not  come  and  I  could  not 
communicate  the  good  news  to  him.  It 
was  a  moonlight  night,  and  I  seated  myself 
in  the  garden,  anxiously  looking  down  the 
road.  He  was  coming  now,  and  I  went  to 
meet  him.  By  the  time  I  reached  the  road, 
however,  he  had  gone  so  far  ahead,  he  saw 
me  not.  I  followed  him,  but  lost  sight  of 
him  at  a  turning.  I  became  anxious  and 
climbed  up  an  elevation  to  see  where  he  had 
gone.  Just  then  a  girl  came  to  me  with  a 
flower  basket  in  her  hand.  It  was  Prabha, 
a  friend  of  my  early  life  who  had  been  one 
of  my  little  schoolmates  at  Babu  Krishna 
Mohan's  school.  I  greeted  her,  and  she 
replied,  "  When  did  you  come  ?  I  only 
arrived  myself  to-day.  I  plucked  these 
flowers  for  you  and  wish  to  present  them  to 
you  now." 

I  answered,  "  I  am  in  a  difficulty.     I  wish 
to  speak  to  him,  but  cannot  find  him." 
o  205 


206       AN   UNFINISHED   SONG 

"  Come  to  my  place,"  she  said. 

Then  her  younger  brother  came  along  on 
horseback.  Prabha  asked, 

"  Do  you  know  where  the  doctor  is  ? >: 

"  Yes,  I  do,"  came  the  reply.  "  If  you 
will  mount  my  horse,  Moni,  I  will  show  you 
where  he  is." 

I  mounted  the  horse  and  it  ran  oS  like 
lightning.  It  ascended  a  high  rocky  plain. 
I  tried  to  check  it,  but  it  flew  on  like  Pak- 
shiraja.  I  thought  I  should  fall  to  the 
ground.  Then  a  camel  came  down .  the 
road.  The  driver  saw  my  danger  and 
jumped  down  to  stop  my  horse,  but  it  had 
already  stopped.  I  got  down.  It  was 
dark  now,  night  had  come,  and  I  found  my- 
self in  an  unknown  and  desolate  place.  I 
could  not  return  home  because  I  could  not 
find  my  way.  I  walked  up  the  road,  but  it 
became  narrower  and  narrower  as  I  pro- 
ceeded, and  there  were  high  walls  of  earth 
on  either  side  of  it.  At  the  end  of  the  lane 
there  was  a  small  cottage.  I  entered  it. 
In  it  was  an  old  lady  with  a  calm,  sweet 
face.  She  spoke  to  me  and  bade  me 
enter :  "  Come  in,  little  mother,  come. 
Where  are  you  going  ?  Come  and  sit 
down." 


AN   UNFINISHED   SONG       207 

"  I  have  lost  my  way,"  I  replied,  but  she 
did  not  seem  to  hear  me. 

"  Come  and  sit  down  and  take  a  little 
coSee,"  she  continued.  "  Do  you  see  my 
garden  in  front  of  the  house  ?  I  planted 
coffee  there  with  my  own  hands." 

A  lamp  was  burning  in  the  room.  Orna- 
ments and  garments  were  scattered  on  the 
floor  around  the  lamp. 

"  Why  are  these  things  lying  here  ?  "  I 
questioned. 

"  She  has  gone  away.  She  promised 
to  come  back  ;  so  far  she  has  not  come,  but 
she  will  be  here  presently." 

"  Who  ?  " 

"  My  daughter-in-law ;  she  is  beautiful 
as  the  golden  moon." 

I  saw  she  was  a  maniac.  She  had  lost 
her  daughter-in-law,  and  now  she  awaited 
her  return,  keeping  her  ornaments  and  gar- 
ments scattered  in  the  room  with  her.  I 
felt  sad  to  see  all  this,  and  my  eyes  filled 
with  tears. 

The  old  lady  continued,  "  Mother,  who 
are  you  ?  Are  you  my  daughter-in-law  ? 
Have  you  come  at  last  ?  He  has  gone  into 
exile,  and  has  not  yet  returned." 

My  heart  felt  as  if  it  were  breaking,  and 


208       AN   UNFINISHED    SONG 

tears  flowed  from  my  eyes.  And  then  I 
awoke  and  found  myself  still  weeping.  I 
looked  at  my  watch.  Scarcely  half-an- 
hour  had  elapsed  since  the  doctor's  depart- 
ure, and  I  might  not  have  slept  more  than 
five  minutes,  but  the  heavy  load  of  despair 
that  had  weighed  on  my  mind  before  I  went 
to  sleep  had  awakened  with  me.  I  was 
as  sad  as  ever.  I  stood  by  the  window 
pondering  over  the  fate  that  was  before  me. 
If  I  told  Chotu  everything  in  the  hope  that 
he  would  rescue  me,  might  I  not  find  myself 
mistaken  ?  He  might  not  after  all  be 
the  good  man  I  supposed  him  to  be.  In 
reality  I  did  not  know  anything  about  him. 
Perhaps  Chotu  loved  me  still  and  would 
insist  on  marrying  me.  My  heart  felt  doubly 
sad  as  this  thought  suggested  itself.  I 
looked  up  to  the  sky  in  supplication,  I 
pleaded  with  the  Divine  Mother  to  save  me. 
It  was  the  time  of  sunset,  the  clouds  were 
gloriously  tinted,  and  a  magnificent  spec- 
tacle it  was  to  see  the  great  masses  of  cloud, 
overspread  with  all  the  colours  of  the  rain- 
bow, ever  changing  as  the  moments  passed  ; 
rose,  violet,  yellow,  green,  and  crimson 
softly  mingling  their  shades  until  the  heavens 
appeared  like  a  coloured  mountain  range. 


AN   UNFINISHED   SONG       209 

Red  clouds  bordered  with  blue  and  white 
shaded  with  black,  grey  softly  tinged  with 
rose,  an  exquisite  blending  of  each  colour 
with  another. 

One  colour  ever  shaded  with  another, 
"  Yes,  such,"  I  murmured,  "  are  the  ways 
of  this  world,  never  a  smile  without  a  tear, 
no  happiness  without  an  equal  portion  of 
sorrow.  I  wish  some  God  would  change 
this  law,  and  make  mankind  happier." 
And  yet  why  should  I  lament  ?  What  was 
I  after  all  but  an  atom  in  the  great  ocean  of 
life? 

I  found  myself  seated  at  the  piano  before 
I  knew  it.  I  began  to  play  unconsciously, 
I  knew  not  why,  the  song  that  was  so  near 
my  heart : 

Alas,  we  met 

When  moon  and  stars  had  faded, 
Spring-time  had  fled  and  flowers  withered  lay. 
Garland  in  hand  through  the  dark  night  I  awaited 
The  bridegroom  who  would  come  when  all  was  bright 

and  gay. 
Then  the  house  would  be  filled  with  fragrance  and 

soft  music, 
And  the  mellow  flute   the  tune   of  Sahana   would 

play.'1 

This  was  all  I  knew  of  the  song,  and  I  sang 
it  over  and  over  again.  Suddenly,  I  heard 


210       AN   UNFINISHED   SONG 

some  one  singing  behind  me,  finishing  the 
song : 

"  Alas,  it  came,  the  longed-for  moment  auspicious, 
But  I  saw  him  not  then,  for  heavy  with  sleep  were 

my  eyes. 
I  wreathed  not  his  brow  at  the  moment  the  gods  had 

selected. 
I  woke  from  my  sleep,  and  lo,  dark  and  cold  were  the 

skies, 
And  faded  the  wreath.     I  hung  on  his  neck  the  dead 

garland, 
While  my  heart  throbbed  with  pain  and  heavy  my 

bosom  with  sighs. 

Alas,  we  met 

When  moon  and  stars  had  faded, 
Spring-time  had  fled  and  flowers  withered  lay/* 

The  music  sent  a  magic  feeling  through 
my  being.  I  was  absorbed  by  it.  I  looked 
not  at  the  singer,  but  played  till  the  sweet 
song  was  finished.  When  at  last  I  did  look 
there  came  upon  me  again  that  strange 
sensation  when  the  past  was  merged  in  the 
present  and  the  present  in  the  past,  when 
childhood  and  youth  were  blended,  and  I 
knew  myself  only  as  the  little  girl  who  had 
learned  to  love  Chotu  when  he  taught  her 
at  his  uncle's  Patshala.  Was  it  really  he  ? 
"  Are  you  Chotu,  are  you  Chotu  f  "  Once 
again  these  words  come  to  my  lips,  but, 
alas  !  again  as  before  to  remain  unspoken. 


AN    UNFINISHED    SONG       211 

I  heard  footsteps — my  father  was  coming. 
I  rose  to  greet  him  and  stood  still  with 
bashfulness.  My  father  entered  and  called 
out  cheerfully,  "  Ah,  you,  Binoy  Krishna  ! 
Moni,  do  you  not  recognise  him  ?  He  is 
Chotu." 

Was  I  dreaming  still  ?  Could  this  be 
eally  true  ? 


CONCLUSION 


CONCLUSION 

THAT  evening  as  I  looked  upwards  I  saw 
another  sky.  There  were  the  same  clouds, 
the  same  vibrating  colours  of  sunset,  but 
all  breathed  peace  and  happiness,  there 
was  no  sorrow  in  the  whispering  breeze 
that  night. 

Nor  was  I  alone  as  my  gaze  went  heaven- 
ward that  night,  and  the  inward  cry  that 
this  earth  knows  no  happiness,  no  smile 
without  tears,  that  cry  that  had  haunted 
me  so  long  was  stilled  at  last.  We  were 
sitting  together,  Chotu  and  I,  silently  ab- 
sorbed in  the  love  of  our  young  lives.  To 
me  the  shading  of  the  clouds  had  another 
message  now.  "  Smiles,"  they  whispered, 
"  would  not  be  so  precious  if  they  had  not 
known  tears,  happiness  would  not  know 
itself  if  it  were  not  born  of  suffering."  Did 
he  think  as  I  did,  for  suddenly  he  gave 
expression  to  my  silent  thoughts  and  said — 

"  Happiness  is  not  happy  enough,  but 
must  grow  by  the  contact  of  pain  and  fear." 
215 


216       AN   UNFINISHED   SONG 

Too  much  happiness  made  me  sigh,  and 
with  it  came  the  pain  of  remorse.  Poor 
Romanath,  if  he  had  really  loved  me,  I 
had  done  him  grave  injustice.  Chotu  seemed 
to  feel  my  thoughts.  He  spoke  somewhat 
abruptly,  saying  : 

"  Have  you  heard  the  latest  news  ? 
Kusum  is  to  be  married  to  Romanath. 
What  a  humbug — I  beg  your  pardon — 
what  an  exemplary  lover  ! >! 

I  was  delighted,  and  interrupted  him  in 
my  eagerness  to  hear  more. 

"Really?    When?" 

"  A  week  before  our  marriage  ? >: 

The  light  of  the  newly  risen  moon  fell 
upon  his  handsome  face  as  he  spoke,  and 
I  thought  I  had  never  before  seen  him  look 
so  beautiful.  The  moon  of  the  thirteenth 
lunar  day,  that  wanted  but  two  digits  to 
make  it  full,  how  glorious  it  was  !  It  floated 
like  a  mellow  silver  orb  in  the  deep  blue 
ocean  of  ether.  The  fragrant  Sephalica 
fell  around  us  like  a  rain  of  meteorites, 
and  the  air  was  filled  with  beauty  and 
fragrance.  The  autumn  air  was  mellow  and 
soft,  and  it  flowed  into  our  being,  and  all 
was  love  and  beauty. 

It  was  I  who  broke  the  silent  spell. 


AN   UNFINISHED   SONG       217 

"  But   you,   doctor,   how   could   you  ?  9' 
"  Doctor   again  ? — I   will   not   listen." 

"  But  how  could  you,  Chotu,  cause  me 
so  much  pain  ?  When  you  understood 
from  my  remarks  that  father  had  settled 
my  marriage  with  you,  that  very  moment 
you  left  me  alone." 

"  Yes,  it  appeared  from  what  you  said 
that  I  was  the  man,  but  I  was  not  certain. 
There  might  have  been  a  mistake.  Love 
gets  easily  frightened." 

"  Was  that  the  reason  you  left  me  to  my 
misery  ?  Is  that  your  idea  of  chivalry  ?  " 

"  But  don't  you  see,  I  intended  to  come 
back  without  delay.  I  wished  only  to  speak 
to  your  father,  and  then  Binoy  Krishna 
would  present  himself  before  you  as  Chotu." 

"  No  doubt,  that  would  have  been  charm- 
ingly romantic,  but  had  you  no  thought  of 
the  misery  that  I  underwent  in  the  mean- 
time ?  So  that  was  the  extent  of  your 
love  ?  " 

He  laughed  and  replied  : 

"  And  the  extent  of  your  love,  my  lady  ? 
You  did  not  even  recognise  me,  and  yet 
I  knew  you  the  first  minute  I  saw  you." 

"  Oh,  that  is  small  wonder.  The  minute 
you  came  to  the  house  you  knew  all  about 


me,  and  then  you  kept  your  identity 
concealed.  You  did  not  even  care  to  speak 
to  me  of  bygone  days.  I  don't  think 
you  loved  me  so  very  deeply." 

"  Now,  listen.  Was  I  not  told  that  the 
lady  of  my  heart  was  betrothed  to  another  ? 
When  I  found  she  did  not  even  recognise 
me,  I  thought  it  wise  not  to  make  myself 
known  to  her.  You  do  not  love  Chotu,  the 
friend  of  your  childhood,  you  love  the  new 
man,  the  doctor." 

"  And  you  do  not  love  me,  you  love  the 
companion  of  your  childhood." 

I  thought  at  one  time  that  individuality 
disappeared  in  love,  and  that  love  was  all 
self-abnegation,  but  now  I  find  that  as 
light  and  shade  are  both  required  for  a 
landscape,  so  altercations  and  demands  are 
also  adjuncts  of  love,  and  in  this  way  love 
is  kept  ever  young. 

At  any  rate  in  our  lives  love  is  full  of 
challenge.  "  You  do  not  love  me,"  I  say 
mockingly,  "  you  love  the  companion  of 
your  childhood." 

"  You  do  not  love  me,"  is  the  inevitable 
reply.  "  You  love  the  man  you  met  at 
your  sister's  house,  the  doctor." 

And  now  I  leave  it  to  the  judgment  of  the 


AN   UNFINISHED   SONG       219 

reader  to  decide  whom  I  have  loved.  Did 
I  love  the  companion  of  my  childhood  and 
perceive  the  reflection  of  him  in  the  doctor 
whom  I  met  again  as  a  man  and  a  stranger, 
or  did  I  love  the  man,  and  obtain  the 
companion  of  my  childhood  by  accident  ? 
I  love,  I  admit,  but  the  question  remains, 
"  Whom  ?  " 


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